THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


THE  GASTRONOMY  COLLECTION  OF 
GEORGE  HOLL 


*^ 


5*om  d  (painting  ty  <5ettit  an6  308 


Ofb 

in 


TKnitb  Ullustrations  bv  tbe  Butbor 


(printed  at 


COPYRIGHT,   1916,   BY  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  November  iqib 


THIS  EDITION,  PRINTED  AT  THE  RIVERSIDE 
PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  CONSISTS  OF  FIVE  HUN- 
DRED AND  FIFTY  NUMBERED  COPIES,  OF 
WHICH  FIVE  HUNDRED  ARE  FOR  SALE.  THIS 
IS  NUMBER  £ 


For  a  sign !  as  indeed  man,  with  his  singular  imagina- 
tive faculties,  can  do  little  or  nothing  without  signs. 

CARLYLE 

THE  author's  love  of  the  subject  is  his  only 
apology  for  his  bold  undertaking.  First  it  was 
the  filigree  quality  and  the  beauty  of  the  deli- 
cate tracery  of  the  wrought-iron  signs  in  the 
picturesque  villages  of  southern  Germany 
that  attracted  his  attention;  then  their  deep 
symbolic  significance  exerted  its  influence 
more  and  more  over  his  mind,  and  tempted 
him  at  last  to  follow  their  history  back  until 
he  could  discover  its  multifarious  relations 
to  the  thought  and  feeling  of  earlier  genera- 
tions. 

For  the  shaping  of  the  English  text  the 
author  is  greatly  indebted  to  his  American 
friends  Mr.  D.  S.  Muzzey,  Mr.  Emil  Hein- 
rich  Richter,  and  Mr.  Carleton  Noyes. 


Contents 

I.   HOSPITALITY  AND  ITS  TOKENS  I 

II.   ANCIENT  TAVERN  SIGNS  23 

III.  ECCLESIASTICAL  HOSPITALITY  AND  ITS  SIGNS  47 

IV.  SECULAR  HOSPITALITY:  KNIGHTLY  AND  POPULAR  SIGNS  7  5 
V.   TRAVELING  WITH  SHAKESPEARE  AND  MONTAIGNE  101 

VI.  TAVERN  SIGNS  IN  ART — ESPECIALLY  IN  PICTURES  BY 

THE  DUTCH  MASTERS  127 

VII.   ARTISTS  AS  SIGN-PAINTERS  141 

VIII.   THE  SIGN  IN  POETRY  167 

IX.   POLITICAL  SIGNS  187 

X.   TRAVELING  WITH  GOETHE  AND  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  2 1 7 

XI.   THE  ENGLISH  SIGN  AND  ITS  PECULIARITIES  235 

XII.   THE  ENEMIES  OF  THE  SIGN  AND  ITS  END  259 

ENVOY:  AND  THE  MORAL?  277 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  291 

INDEX  297 


OLD  DUTCH  SIGNS  Frontispiece 

From  a  painting  by  Gerrit  and  Job  Berkhtyden 

ZUM  SCHIFF,  IN  STUTTGART  Title-Page 

ZUM  OCHSEN,  IN  BlETIGHEIM,  WURTTEMBERG  vi 

THE  COCK,  IN  FLEET  STREET,  LONDON  2 

ADAM  AND  EVE  5 

From,  an  engraving  by  Hogarth 

ELEFANT  AND  CASTLE,  LONDON  7 

From  an  old  woodcut 

ENGEL,  IN  MURRHARDT,  WURTTEMBERG  1 1 

ZUM  GOLDNEN  ANKER  IN  BESIGHEIM,  WURTTEMBERG  20 

ENGEL,  IN  WINNENDEN,  WURTTEMBERG  24 

ZUM  RAD,  IN  RAVENSBURG,  WURTTEMBERG  37 

ZUM  WILDEN  MANN,  IN  ESSLINGEN,  WURTTEMBERG  38 

ROMAN  TAVERN  SIGN  FROM  ISERNIA,  ITALY  43 

CAMPANA,  AND  CANONE  D'  ORO,  IN  BORGO  SAN  DALMAZZO, 

ITALY  44 

LAMM,  IN  ERLENBACH,  WURTTEMBERG  48 

ZUM  RITTER,  IN  DEGERLOCH,  WURTTEMBERG  65 

THE  GOOD  WOMAN,  OLD  ENGLISH  SIGN  67 

HlE  ZUM  KlNDLI,  IN  THE  COLLECTION  OF  THE  ANTIQUA- 
RIAN SOCIETY  IN  ZURICH  71 

ADLER,  IN  LEONBERG,  WURTTEMBERG  76 

ZUM  ROSSLE,  IN  BOZEN,  AUSTRIA  83 

it 


LE  CHAT  QUI  DORT,  MUSEE  CARNAVALET,  PARIS  89 

AFFENWAGEN,  OLD  Swiss  SIGN  91 

EAGLE  AND  CHILD,  GUILDHALL  MUSEUM,  LONDON  100 

KRONE,  IN  LEONBERG,  WURTTEMBERG  102 

THE  FALCON,  IN  CHESTER,  ENGLAND  105 

THE  OLD  BLUE  BOAR,  IN  LINCOLN,  ENGLAND  115 

ROSE,  IN  MURRHARDT,  WURTTEMBERG  121 

THE  ROWING  BARGE,  IN  WALLINGFORD,  ENGLAND  125 

THE  TRUMPETER  BEFORE  A  TAVERN  128 

From  a  painting  by  Du  Jardin  in  Amsterdam 

A  BAKER'S  SIGN  IN  BORGO  SAN  DALMAZZO,  ITALY  135 

THE  HALF-MOON  136 

From  a  painting  by  Teniers  in  London 

ZUR  POST,  IN  LEONBERG,  WURTTEMBERG  137 

A  SIGN-PAINTER  142 

From  an  engraving  by  Hogarth 

ENSEIGNE  DU  REMOULEUR,  PARIS  153 

THE  GOAT,  IN  KENSINGTON,  LONDON  163 
ZUM  GOLDNEN  HlRSCH,  IN  LEONBERG,  WURTTEMBERG       1 68 

TRATTORIA  DEL  GALLO,  IN  TENDA,  ITALY  184 

ZUM  LOWEN,  IN  BlETIGHEIM,  WURTTEMBERG  l86 

THE  KING  OF  WURTTEMBERG,  IN  STUTTGART  188 

ZUR  KRONE,  IN  DEGERLOCH,  WURTTEMBERG  191 

BUTCHER  SIGN  IN  OBERSTENFELD,  WURTTEMBERG  197 

THE  DOG  AND  POT,  IN  LONDON  214 

ZUR  POST,  IN  BIETIGHEIM,  WURTTEMBERG  218 

Aux  TROIS  LAPINS,  OLD  PARISIAN  SIGN  227 


LAMB  AND  FLAG,  IN  EAST  BATH,  ENGLAND  236 

THE  SWAN,  IN  WELLS,  ENGLAND  238 

FOUR  SWANS,  IN  WALTHAM  CROSS,  ENGLAND  240 

SALUTATION  INN,  IN  MANGOTSFIELD,  ENGLAND  244 

A  dub  sign  from  the  museum  in  Taunton,  England 

THE  PACK-HORSE,  IN  CHIPPENHAM,  ENGLAND  246 

ZUM  HlRSCHEN,  IN  WlNNENDEN,  WURTTEMBERG  253 

CAVALLO  BIANCO,  IN  BORGO  SAN  DALMAZZO,  ITALY  260 

THREE  SQUIRRELS,  IN  LONDON  262 

ZUR  GLOCKE,  IN  WINNENDEN,  WURTTEMBERG  264 

ZUM  SCHLUSSEL,  IN  BoZEN,  AUSTRIA  267 

THE  DOG  IN  SHOREDITCH  270 

From  a  woodcut  in  "A  Vade-mecum  for  Malt-Worms"  in  the 

British  Museum 

THE  QUEEN,  IN  EXETER,  ENGLAND  272 

ZUM  STORCHEN,  A  MODERN  SIGN  IN  BIETIGHEIM  274 

ZUR  TRAUBE,  IN  STUTTGART,  KOLBSTRASSE  14  276 

SONNE,  IN  NECKARSULM,  WURTTEMBERG  278 

AN  OLD  LANDLORD  281 
From  the  "Schachbuch"  Liibeck,  1489 

DEATH  AND  THE  LANDLORD  283 
From  a  Dance  of  Death  printed  in  the  Fifteenth  Century,  now 
in  the  Court  Library  in  Stuttgart 

ZUR  SONNE  IN  WINNENDEN,  WURTTEMBERG  284 
THE  GEORGE  AND  DRAGON,  IN  WARGRAVE,  ENGLAND      286 

ZUM    POSTGARTEN,  IN   MuNCHEN,  BAVARIA  289 

The  Cover-Design  is  from  the  sign  of  the  "Goldtnt  Sonne"  in 
Leonberg,  Wiirttemberg 


CHAPTER   I 
HOSPITALITY  AND  ITS  TOKENS 


THE -COCK, 

FLEETHSTREET 

•  LONDON  • 


CHAPTER  I 

HOSPITALITY  AND  ITS  TOKENS 

"  Und  es  1st  vorteilhaft,  den  Genius 

Bewirten:  giebst  du  ihm  ein  Gastgeschenk, 
So  lasst  er  dir  ein  schoneres  zuriick. 

Die  Statte,  die  ein  guter  Mensch  betrat, 
1st  eingeweiht.    .    .    .    ' 

GOETHE. 

"  To  house  a  genius  is  a  privilege; 
How  fine  so  e'er  a  gift  thou  givest  him, 
He  leaves  a  finer  one  behind  for  thee. 
The  spot  is  hallowed  where  a  good  man  treads." 

WITHOUT  a  question,  the  first  journey  that 
ever  mortals  made  on  this  round  earth  was 
the  unwilling  flight  of  Adam  and  Eve  from 
the  Garden  of  Eden  out  into  an  empty  world. 
Many  of  us  who  condemn  this  world  as  a  vale 
of  tears  would  gladly  make  the  return  jour- 
ney into  Paradise,  picturing  in  bright  colors 
the  road  that  our  first  parents  trod  in  bitter- 
ness and  woe.  Happy  in  a  Paradise  in  which 
all  the  beauties  of  the  first  creation  were 
spread  before  their  eyes,  where  no  enemies 

3 


lurked,  and  where  even  the  wild  beasts  were 
faithful  companions,  Adam  and  Eve  could 
not,  with  the  least  semblance  of  reason,  plead 
as  an  excuse  for  traveling  that  constraint 
which  springs  from  man's  inward  unrest 
striving  for  the  perfect  haven  of  peace  be- 
yond the  vicissitudes  of  his  lot. 

And  as  Adam  and  Eve  went  out,  weak  and 
friendless,  into  a  strange  world,  so  it  was  long 
before  their  poor  descendants  dared  to  leave 
their  sheltering  homes  and  fare  forth  into 
unknown  and  distant  parts.  Still,  the  bitter 
trials  which  the  earliest  travelers  had  to  bear 
implanted  in  their  hearts  the  seeds  of  a  valor 
which  has  won  the  praise  of  all  the  spiritual 
leaders  of  men,  from  the  Old  Testament 
worthies,  with  their  injunction  "to  care  for 
the  stranger  within  the  gates/'  to  the  divine 
words  of  the  Nazarene :  "  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  took  me  in.  ...  Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one 
of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  me." 

Our  first  parents,  naturally,  could  not  en- 
joy the  blessings  of  hospitality.  And  still,  in 
later  ages,  they  have  not  infrequently  been 
depicted  on  signs  which  hosts  have  hung 

4 


anb  ife 

out  to  proclaim  a  hospitality  not  gratuitous 
but  hearty.  So  in  one  of  Hogarth's  draw- 
ings, of  the  year  1750,  "  The  March  of  the 


Guards  towards  Scotland/'  which  the  artist 
himself  later  etched,  and  dedicated  to  Fred- 
erick the  Great,  we  see  Adam  and  Eve  figur- 
ing on  a  tavern  sign.  No  visitor  to  London 

5 


should  fail  to  see  this  work  of  the  English 
painter-satirist.  One  may  see  a  copy  of  it, 
with  other  distinguished  pictures,  in  the  large 
hall  of  a  foundling  asylum  established  in 
1739,  especially  for  the  merciful  purpose  of 
caring  for  illegitimate  children  in  the  cruel 
early  years  of  their  life.  This  hall,  which  is 
filled  with  valuable  mementos  of  great  men, 
like  Handel,  is  open  to  visitors  after  church 
services  on  Sundays.  And  we  would  advise 
the  tourist  who  is  not  dismayed  by  the 
thought  of  an  hour's  sermon  to  attend  the 
service.  If  he  finds  it  difficult  to  follow  the 
preacher  in  his  theological  flights,  he  has  but 
to  sit  quiet  and  raise  his  eyes  to  the  gallery, 
where  a  circlet  of  fresh  child  faces  surrounds 
the  stately  heads  of  the  precentor  and  the 
organist.  At  the  end  of  the  service  let  him 
not  forget  to  glance  into  the  dining-hall, 
where  all  the  little  folks  are  seated  at  the 
long  fairy  tables,  with  a  clear  green  leaf  of 
lettuce  in  each  tiny  plate,  and  each  rosy  face 
buried  in  a  mug  of  gleaming  milk.  This 
picture  will  be  dearer  to  him  in  memory 
than  many  a  canvas  of  noted  masters  in  the 
National  Gallery. 

The  present-day  tourist  who  takes  the  bus 
6 


out  Finchley  Road  to  hunt  up  the  old  sign 
will  be  as  sorely  disappointed  as  if  he  ex- 
pected to  find  the  "Angel"  shield  in  Islington 
or  the  quaint  "Elephant  and  Castle"  sign  in 
South  London.  Almost  all  the  old  London 
signs  have  vanished  out 
of  the  streets,  and  only 
a  few  of  them  have 
taken  refuge  in  the 
dark  sub-basement  of 
the  Guildhall  Mu- 
seum, where  they  lead 
a  right  pitiable  exist- 
ence, dreaming  of  the 
better  days  when  they 
hung  glistening  in  the 

happy  sunshine.  There  were  "Adam  and 
Eve"  taverns  in  London,  in  "Little  Britain," 
and  in  Kensington  High  Street.  In  other 
countries,  France  and  Switzerland,  for  ex- 
ample, they  were  called  "  Paradise  "  signs. 
A  last  feeble  echo  of  the  old  Paradise  sign 
lingers  in  the  inscription  over  a  fashion  shop 
in  modern  Paris,  "Au  Paradis  des  Dames," 
the  woman's  paradise,  in  which  are  sold,  it 
must  be  said,  only  articles  for  which  Eve  in 
Paradise  had  no  use. 

7 


LONDON 


Gavarni,  who  spoke  the  bitter  phrase, 
"  Partout  Dieu  n'est  et  n'a  etc  que  Fenseigne 
d'une  boutique,"  made  bold  in  one  of  his 
lithographs  of  "Scenes  de  la  vie  intime" 
(1837)  to  inscribe  over  the  gates  of  Paradise, 
from  which  the  "tenants"  were  flying:  "Au 
pommier  sans  pareil."  Schiller  tells  us  that 
the  world  loves  to  smirch  shining  things  and 
bring  down  the  lofty  to  the  dust.  This 
need  not  deter  us  from  reading  in  the  old 
Paradise  signs  a  reminder  of  the  journey  of 
our  first  parents,  and  to  enjoy  thankfully  the 
blessings  of  ordered  hospitality  to-day. 

Until  this  ordered  hospitality  prevailed, 
however,  many  centuries  had  to  elapse,  and 
for  the  long  interval  every  man  who  ven- 
tured out  into  the  hostile  wilderness  re- 
sembled Carlyle's  traveler,  "  overtaken  by 
Night  and  its  tempests  and  rain  deluges,  but 
refusing  to  pause;  who  is  wetted  to  the 
bone,  and  does  not  care  further  for  rain.  A 
traveler  grown  familiar  with  howling  soli- 
tudes, aware  that  the  storm  winds  do  not 
pity,  that  Darkness  is  the  dead  earth's 
shadow."  Only  the  strong  and  bold  could 
dare  to  defy  wild  nature,  especially  when 
there  was  need  to  cross  desolate  places,  in- 

8 


hospitable  mountains  like  the  Alps.  So  the 
ancients  celebrated  Hercules  as  a  hero,  be- 
cause he  was  the  pioneer  who  made  a  road 
through  their  rough  mountain  world. 

A  still  longer  time  had  to  elapse  ere  the 
traveler  could  rejoice  in  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture which  surrounded  him.  The  civilizing 
work  of  insuring  safe  highways  had  to  be 
done  before  what  Macaulay  names  "  the  sense 
of  the  wilder  beauties  of  nature''  could  be 
developed.  "  It  was  not  till  roads  had  been 
cut  out  of  the  rocks,  till  bridges  had  been 
flung  over  the  courses  of  the  rivulets,  till  inns 
had  succeeded  to  dens  of  robbers  .  .  .  that 
strangers  could  be  enchanted  by  the  blue 
dimples  of  the  lakes  and  by  the  rainbow 
which  overhung  the  waterfalls,  and  could  de- 
rive a  solemn  pleasure  even  from  the  clouds 
and  tempests  which  lowered  on  the  moun- 
tain-tops." 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  literature  of 
olden  times,  when  traveling  was  so  danger- 
ous an  occupation,  is  filled  with  admoni- 
tions to  hospitality.  The  finest  example  of 
it,  perhaps,  is  preserved  in  the  Bible  story  of 
the  visit  of  the  angels  to  Abraham,  and  later 
to  Lot.  This  story  deserves  to  be  read  again 

9 


and  again  as  the  typical  account  of  hospi- 
tality. As  is  the  custom  to  speak  in  the  most 
modest  terms  of  a  meal  to  which  one  invites 
a  guest,  calling  it  "a  bite"  or  "a  cup  of 
tea,"  so  Abraham  spoke  to  the  angels,  "  I 
will  fetch  a  morsel  of  bread,  and  comfort  ye 
your  hearts."  Then  Abraham  told  his  wife 
to  bake  a  great  loaf,  while  he  himself  went 
out  to  kill  a  fatted  calf  and  bring  butter  and 
milk.  In  like  fashion  Lot  extends  his  hospi- 
tality, providing  the  strangers  with  water  to 
refresh  their  tired  feet,  and  in  the  night  even 
risking  his  life  against  the  attacking  Sodom- 
ites, to  protect  the  guests  who  have  come  for 
shelter  beneath  his  roof. 

The  feeling  that  a  guest  might  be  a  divine 
messenger,  nay,  even  Deity  itself,  continued 
into  the  New  Testament  times,  as  St.  Paul's 
advice  to  the  Hebrews  shows:  "  Be  not  for- 
getful to  entertain  strangers,  for  thereby  some 
have  entertained  angels  unawares."  And  did 
not  the  disciples,  too,  at  times,  receive  their 
Master  as  a  guest  in  their  homes,  the  Son  of 
Man,  the  Son  of  God  ?  William  Allen  Knight 
has  dwelt  on  this  thought  very  beautifully  in 
his  little  book  called  "  Peter  in  the  Fire- 
light": "The  people  of  Capernaum  slept 

10 


anb 

that  night  with  glowings  of  peace  lighting 
their  dreams.  But  in  no  house  where  loved 
ones  freed  from  pain  were  sleeping  was  there 


gladness  like  in  Simon's ;  for  the  Master  him- 
self was  sleeping  there." 

A  later  type  of  legend  pictures  the  angels, 
not  as  guests,  but  as  benefactors,  preparing  a 
wonderful  meal  for  starving  monks  who  in 
their  charity  have  given  away  all  their  pos- 
sessions to  the  poor,  and  have  no  bread  to 

ll 


eat.  The  tourist,  walking  through  the  seem- 
ingly endless  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  will 
pause  a  moment  before  the  beautiful  canvas 
on  which  Murillo  has  depicted  this  story. 
The  French  call  it  "la  cuisine  des  anges." 
It  is  a  historical  fact  that  many  cloisters 
were  reduced  to  poverty  in  the  Middle  Ages 
on  account  of  their  generous  almsgiving. 
Not  all  of  them  could  lay  claim  to  the  holy 
Diego  of  Murillo's  painting,  who  could  pray 
with  such  perfect  trust  in  Him  who  feeds  the 
sparrows  that  angels  came  down  from  heaven 
into  the  cloister  kitchen  to  prepare  the  meal. 
The  widespread  popularity  of  these  Bibli- 
cal stories  and  holy  legends  need  cause  no 
wonder  that  the  angel  was  a  favorite  subject 
for  tavern  signs  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
that  even  at  this  day  he  takes  so  many  an  old 
inn  under  the  patronage  of  his  benevolent 
wings.  It  has  been  asserted  that  the  angel  sign 
originated  in  the  age  of  the  Reformation, 
simply  by  leaving  out  the  figure  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  from  the  portrayal  of  the  scene  of  the 
Annunciation.  But  against  this  theory  stands 
the  fact  that  there  were  simple  angel  signs 
in  the  Middle  Ages  as  well  as  Annunciation 
signs.  We  learn  that  the  students  of  Paris  in 

12 


the  year  1380  assembled  for  their  revels  in 
the  tavern  "  in  angelo.' '  The  records  of  these 
same  Parisian  students  tell  us  how  they  lin- 
gered over  their  cups  in  the  tavern  "  in  duo- 
bus  angelis,"  in  the  year  of  grace  1449. 

We  may  remark  here  in  passing  that  the 
linen  drapers'  guild  in  London  had  as  its 
escutcheon  the  three  angels  of  Abraham. 
One  need  only  to  recall  the  full,  flowing 
garments  of  Botticelli's  angels  to  understand 
in  what  great  respect  the  linen  merchant 
would  hold  the  angels  as  good  customers  of 
the  drapery  trade. 

An  angel  in  beggar's  form  brought  St. 
Julian  the  good  news  of  the  pardon  of  the 
sins  of  his  youth.  In  a  wild  fit  of  anger  the 
headstrong  young  Julian  had  killed  his  par- 
ents. As  atonement  for  his  dreadful  crime 
he  had  done  penance  and  built  a  refuge  in 
which  for  many  long  years  he  freely  cared 
for  all  travelers  who  came  his  way.  At  last 
the  angel's  reward  of  hospitality  was  vouch- 
safed to  him,  and  in  memory  of  his  good 
works  tavern-keepers  chose  him  as  their 
patron  saint. 

The  stern  Consistory  of  Geneva  had  evi- 
dently forgotten  all  these  beautiful  legends 

13 


and  their  deep  symbolical  meaning,  when  in 
the  year  1647  it  forbade  a  tavern-keeper  to 
hang  out  an  angel  sign,  "  ce  qui  est  non  ac- 
coutume  en  cette  ville  et  scandaleux."  Per- 
haps the  grave  city  fathers  of  Geneva  remem- 
bered their  by-gone  student  days  in  Paris, 
and  the  handsome  angel  hostess  in  the  city 
on  the  Seine,  where  a  contemporary  of 
Louis  XIV  celebrated  in  song 

u  Un  ange  que  j'idolatre 
A  cause  du  bon  vin  qu'il  a." 

The  most  attractive  angel  tavern  that  the 
author  has  met  in  his  travels  is  in  the  quiet 
little  English  town  of  Grantham,  although 
he  has  to  confess,  in  the  words  of  the  Ger- 
man song :  - 

u  Es  giebt  so  manche  Strasse,  da  nimmer  ich  marschiert, 
Es  giebt  so  manchen  Wein,  den  ich  nimmer  noch  pro- 
biert." 

It  was  a  sharp  autumn  day.  The  wind 
that  whistled  about  the  lofty  cathedral  of 
Lincoln  had  searched  us  to  the  marrow,  and 
we  were  well  content  after  our  ride  from 
the  station  to  find  a  kindly  welcome  at  the 
"  Angel."  The  facade  of  the  dignified  tavern, 
which  once  belonged  to  the  Knights'  Tem- 


plars,  and  which  saw  the  royal  guests,  King 
John  in  1213,  and  King  Richard  III  in 
1483,  entertained  within  its  walls,  is  one  of 
the  most  splendid  architectural  monuments 
that  we  saw  in  England.  As  everywhere  in 
this  garden-land,  the  ivy  winds  its  green 
arms  around  the  stiffer  forms  of  the  English 
Gothic,  which  often  lack  the  warm  pictur- 
esqueness  of  architectural  detail  that  makes 
the  wonderful  charm  of  the  French  and  the 
South  German  Gothic. 

Over  the  lintel  of  the  door  of  the  tavern 
the  sculptured  angel  shone  resplendent  in 
his  golden  glory.  A  charming  little  balcony 
rested  on  his  wings  and  his  hands  held  out 
a  crown  of  hospitable  welcome  to  royal  and 
common  guests  alike.  All  these  winged  mes- 
sengers of  hospitality  seem  to  say  in  the 
words  of  the  Old  Testament :  "  The  stranger 
that  dwelleth  with  you  shall  be  unto  you  as 
one  born  among  you,  and  thou  shalt  love  him 
as  thyself:  for  ye  were  strangers  in  the  land 
of  Egypt." 

The  bitter  experience  of  their  own  dis- 
tress in  a  strange  land  planted  in  the  hearts 
of  the  Israelitish  people  a  kindly  feeling  to- 
ward the  stranger.  For  all  that,  much  was 

15 


permitted  in  dealing  with  a  stranger  which 
was  forbidden  in  the  case  of  a  brother  Israel- 
ite. The  stranger  might  be  made  to  pay  in- 
terest, and  it  was  no  infraction  of  the  Mosaic 
Law  to  make  him  and  his  children  men- 
servants  and  maidservants. 

While,  then,  the  law  of  the  exclusive  Jews 
accorded  certain  rights  to  the  stranger  which 
the  children  of  Israel  were  warned  not  to 
impair,  the  Grasco-Roman  world,  on  the 
other  hand,  recognized  no  claim  of  the 
stranger.  "II  n'y  a  jamais  de  droit  pour 
1'etranger,"  says  Fustel  de  Coulanges  in  "  La 
Cite  antique."  The  same  word  in  Latin 
means  originally  both  enemy  and  stranger. 
"Hostilis  facies"  in  Virgil,  means  the  face 
of  a  stranger.  To  avoid  all  chance  of  en- 
countering the  sight  of  a  stranger  while  per- 
forming his  sacred  office,  the  Pontifex  per- 
formed the  sacrifice  with  veiled  face.  In  spite 
of  this,  the  stranger  met  with  favorable  con- 
sideration both  at  Athens  and  at  Rome,  in 
case  he  was  rich  and  distinguished.  Com- 
mercial interests  welcomed  his  arrival  and 
bestowed  on  him  the  "jus  commercii" 
(the  right  to  engage  in  trade).  Yet  he  came 
wholly  within  the  protection  of  the  laws 

16 


ite 

only  when  he  chose  one  of  the  citizens  as 
his  "patron/* 

It  seems  as  if  it  must  have  been  embar- 
rassing in  those  days  to  have  shown  one's 
"hostilis  fades"  in  foreign  lands  and  cities 
in  the  course  of  a  journey  undertaken  for 
pleasure  or  to  seek  the  cures  at  the  bathing 
resorts.  Still  we  know  that  the  Romans,  in 
their  enthusiasm  for  this  kind  of  travel,  built 
villas,  theaters,  temples,  and  baths  at  some 
of  the  most  celebrated  watering-places  of 
modern  days,  like  Nice  and  Wiesbaden. 

The  stiff  and  almost  hostile  attitude  of 
classical  antiquity  toward  the  stranger  was 
relieved  by  the  hospitable  custom  which  made 
the  stranger  almost  a  member  of  the  family 
as  soon  as  he  had  been  received  at  the  family 
hearth  and  had  partaken  of  the  family  meal. 
This  function  was  a  sacred  one  among  the 
ancients,  for  they  believed  that  the  gods  were 
present  at  their  table :  "  Et  mensae  credere 
adesse  deos,"  says  Ovid  in  the  "Pastes." 

At  especially  festal  meals  it  was  the  cus- 
tom to  crown  the  head  with  wreaths,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  public  meals,  where  chosen 
delegates  of  the  city,  clad  in  white,  met  to 
partake  of  the  food  which  was  the  symbol 

17 


of  their  common  life  of  citizenship ;  or  in  the 
case  of  the  bridal  meals,  where  the  maiden, 
veiled  in  white,  pledged  herself  forever  to 
the  bridegroom.  There  was  no  rich  wed- 
ding-cake, like  those  common  in  England 
and  America,  but  a  simple  loaf,  "panis  far- 
reus,"  which  after  the  common  prayer  they 
ate  in  common  "  under  the  eyes  of  the  fam- 
ily gods."  "  So,"  says  Plato,  "  the  gods  them- 
selves lead  the  wife  to  the  home  of  her 
husband." 

The  custom  of  wearing  a  crown  at  solemn 
feasts  was  founded  on  the  ancient  belief  that 
it  was  well  pleasing  to  the  gods.  "  If  thou 
performest  thy  sacrifice  [and  the  meal  was  a 
sacrifice]  without  the  wreath  upon  thy  head, 
the  gods  will  turn  from  thee,"  says  a  frag- 
ment from  Sappho.  The  sense  of  the  near- 
ness of  the  gods  at  mealtime  and  the  beauti- 
ful old  custom  of  pouring  out  a  bit  of  wine 
for  the  invisible  holy  guest,  were  preserved 
down  to  the  time  of  the  later  Romans.  We 
find  the  custom  in  vogue  with  such  old  sin- 
ners as  Horace  and  Juvenal.  We  shall  recall 
the  significance  of  the  wreath  as  a  symbol 
when  we  meet  the  ivy  wreath  later  as  a 
tavern  sign. 

18 


But  even  in  classical  antiquity  the  exercise 
of  free  hospitality  demanded  certain  tokens 
to  preserve  it  from  abuse  at  the  hands  of 
fraudulent  strangers.  For  example,  the  so- 
called  "tessera  hospitalis,"  a  tiny  object  in 
the  shape  of  a  ram's  head  or  a  fish,  was  split 
in  halves  and  shared  by  each  party  to  the 
agreement  of  hospitality.  By  presenting  his 
half  of  the  "tessera"  the  stranger  could 
always  prove  his  identity  and  his  claims  to  a 
hospitable  reception  by  the  family  to  which 
he  came. 

Other  tokens  were  small  ivory  or  metal 
hands  carved  with  appropriate  inscriptions. 
The  latter  were  also  sometimes  exchanged 
on  the  negotiation  of  treaties  between  na- 
tions. In  the  medallion  cabinet  at  Paris  there 
is  one  of  these  treaty-hands  in  bronze,  com- 
memorating a  treaty  between  the  Gallic 
tribe  of  the  Velavii  and  a  Greek  colony  — 
probably  Marseilles.  This  hand  of  hospitality, 
like  the  wreath,  was  a  frequent  motive  in  the 
development  of  the  tavern  sign.  In  fact,  it 
was  so  frequent  in  the  German  lands  that  the 
people  were  accustomed  to  call  the  tavern,  in 
figurative  speech,  the  "  place  where  the  good 
God  stretched  out  his  hands/'  If  we  recall 


*  Soften* 

the  deep  symbolic  meaning  of  such  signs, 
we  shall  not  find  this  naive  expression  of  the 
people  shocking,  like  the  Puritan  Consistory 


at  Geneva,  whose  narrow-minded  prohibition 
of  the  angel  sign  we  have  already  noticed. 

Now,  before  passing  to  the  study  of  the 
origins  of  entertainment  for  pay,  with  its 
signs  (which  were  really  the  first  tavern  signs) 
let  us  turn  back  to  the  old  Germans,  to  note 

20 


their  idea  of  hospitality.  The  German  fathers, 
too,  tell  in  a  beautiful  story  of  the  reception 
of  a  divine  guest  in  the  cottage  of  a  mortal, 
and  of  a  reward  like  that  which  Abraham 
had  for  his  spirit  of  friendly  aid.  In  one  of 
the  religious  songs  of  the  "  Edda,"  which 
probably  originated  in  the  North-Scottish 
islands,  we  read  how  the  god  Heimdall,  in 
the  disguise  of  a  humble  traveler,  visited  the 
hut  of  an  aged  couple,  and  was  honorably 
received  by  them  :  - 

u  Then  Edda  brought  forward  a  loaf  of  graham  bread, 
Firm,  thick  and  full  of  hulls ; 
And  more,  too,  she  brought  to  the  table, 
And  set  thereon  the  bowl  of  soup." 

RIGSPULA,  4. 

In  the  sayings  of  Hars  (i.e.,  of  Odin)  the 
Lofty,  the  rule  of  hospitality  is  stated :  — 

"  Hail  to  the  Givers  !  a  guest  enters. 
Say  where  he  shall  sit. 
He  cannot  stay  long 
Who  must  seek  his  living  in  the  chase  on  snowshoes. 

He  who  comes  from  afar  needs  fire, 
For  his  knees  are  stiff  with  the  cold. 
He  who  has  crossed  the  mountain  cliffs, 
Needs  food  and  clothing  sore. 
Water  and  welcoming  greeting  he  needs 
And  the  towel  to  dry  him  from  the  bath." 
21 


So  even  the  old  Germans  had  felt  the 
blessings  of  hospitality,  and  received  the 
angel's  reward.  An  old  poet  expressed  it  in 
a  simple  phrase :  — 

"  A  bit  of  bread,  and  the  offer  of  the  cup 
Won  me  a  noble  friend." 


CHAPTER   II 
ANCIENT  TAVERN  SIGNS 


CHAPTER  II 

ANCIENT  TAVERN   SIGNS 

"  La  bourse  du  voyageur,  cette  bourse  precieuse,  contient  tout 
pour  lui,  puisque  la  sainte  hospitalite  n'est  plus  la  pour  le  De- 
voir au  seuil  des  maisons  avec  son  doux  sourire  et  sa  cordialite 
augustc. ' ' 

VICTOR  HUGO  (Le  Rbin). 

WE  must  now  take  leave  of  "  holy  hospi- 
tality" which  is  written  in  the  hearts  of 
men  and  truly  needs  no  outward  sign,  and 
must  follow  lago's  counsel :  "  Put  money  in 
thy  purse ! "  For  our  journey  is  no  longer 
from  friend  to  friend,  but  from  host  to  host 
and  from  sign  to  sign.  Regret  it  as  we  may, 
a  hospitality  for  profit's  sake  had  to  succeed 
the  old  free  hospitality  of  friends.  The  widen- 
ing commerce  of  the  Roman  world-empire 
could  hardly  have  existed  without  a  well- 
regulated  business  of  entertainment  along 
those  magnificent  roads  by  which  the  em- 
pire was  bound  together.  The  traveler  was 
more  and  more  unlikely,  with  every  exten- 
sion of  the  area  of  his  far  journey  ings,  to 
find  houses  to  which  he  was  bound  by  the 
friendly  ties  of  genuine  hospitality  ;  while  he 

25 


(ftncienf 

who  remained  quietly  by  his  own  fireside 
("  qui  sedet  post  fornacem  ")  would  find  the 
constantly  increasing  duties  of  the  voluntary 
host  growing  to  be  so  great  a  burden  that  he 
would  be  relieved  to  see  the  establishment  of 
public  inns.  Indeed,  he  may  himself,  at  first, 
have  sought  relief  by  charging  his  guests  a 
nominal  sum  to  defray  their  expense.  At 
any  rate,  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  fix  an 
exact  line  between  these  two  forms  of  enter- 
tainment, which  existed  side  by  side  for  long 
ages  of  antiquity.  Certain  it  is  that  at  some 
moment,  we  know  not  just  when,  there  ap- 
peared the  Pompeian  inscription  over  the 
tavern  door:  "Hospitium  hie  locatur." 
(Hospitality  for  hire.)  That  was  the  birth- 
hour  of  the  tavern  sign. 

We  cannot  hide  the  fact  that  the  begin- 
nings of  business  hospitality  were  of  a  very 
unedifying  character,  under  the  plague  of 
Mammon.  In  Jewish  and  Gen  tile  society  alike 
they  must  have  been  closely  akin  to  that  kind 
of  hospitality  against  whose  smooth  speech 
and  Egyptian  luxury  the  wise  old  Solomon 
warned  foolish  youth  in  his  Proverbs.  Wit- 
ness the  identical  word  in  Hebrew  to  denote 
a  courtesan  and  a  tavern  hostess ;  witness 

26 


(ftncimf 

Plato's  exclusion  of  the  tavern-keeper  from 
his  ideal  republic ;  witness  the  reluctance  of 
the  respectable  Greek  and  Roman  to  enter  a 
tavern.  In  the  Berlin  collection  of  antiques 
there  is  a  stone  relief  which  has  been  pro- 
nounced an  old  Roman  tavern  sign.  On  it  the 
"  Quattuor  sorores,"  or  four  sisters,  are  repre- 
sented as  frivolous  women.  And  there  are 
charges  entered  on  old  Roman  tavern  bills 
which  could  not  possibly  appear  on  a  hotel 
bill  to-day.  Both  the  rich  and  the  poor  were 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  Horace's  words:  — 

"  Pereant  qui  crastina  curant, 
Mors  aurem  vellens  :  Vivite,  ait,  venio." 

(Dismiss  care  for  the  morrow, 
Death  tweaks  us  by  the  ear  and  says,  Drink,  for  I  come.) 

This  spirit  reveals  itself  in  a  dance  of  death, 
which  decorated  the  beautiful  silver  tankards 
found  in  Boscoreale,  a  Pompeian  suburb. 
And  so  we  must  not  be  surprised  to  see  later, 
during  the  Middle  Ages,  even  on  tavern 
signs  the  grim  figure  of  Death ;  as  for  ex- 
ample, on  the  French  tavern,  "  La  Mort  qui 
trompe." 

The  magnificent  frescoes  of  the  rich  in 
Pompeian  art  show  us  a  palatial  feasting-hall 

27 


with  the  inscription,  "Facite  vobis  suaviter  " 
(Enjoy  your  life  here)  ;  and  at  the  same  time 
the  tavern  guests  for  a  few  pennies  woo  the 
philosophy  of  "carpe  diem  "  —  the  careless 
abandonment  to  pleasure  that  knows  no  con- 
cern for  the  morrow.  Another  inscription 
found  in  Pompeii  makes  the  tavern  Hebe 
say :  "  For  an  as  [penny]  I  give  you  good 
wine ;  for  a  double  as,  still  better  wine  ;  for 
four  ases,  the  famed  Falerian  wine  of  song/' 
To  be  sure,  the  wine  was  often  pretty  bad  in 
these  greasy  inns  —  Horace's  "  uncta  po- 
pina."  One  guest  relieved  his  mind  of  his 
complaint  by  writing  on  the  chamber  wall : 
"O  mine  host,  you  sell  the  doctored  wine, 
but  the  undiluted  you  drink  yourself."  On 
the  same  wall,  which  seems  to  have  served 
as  a  kind  of  "  guest-book  "  ("  libro  dei  fo- 
restieri ")  are  the  names  of  many  guests,  one 
of  whom  complains  in  touching  phrase  that 
he  is  sleeping  far  away  from  his  beloved  wife 
for  whom  he  yearns :  "  urbanam  suam  de- 
siderabat." 

In  spite  of  the  contempt  which  ancient 
writers  all  manifest  for  these  wine-shops  and 
inns,  we  remark  that  men  of  the  senatorial 
order,  like  Cicero,  did  not  scorn  at  times  to 

28 


stop  for  a  few  hours  on  their  summer  jour- 
ney at  some  country  inn  like  the  "  Three 
Taverns,"  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rome,  to 
call  for  a  letter  or  to  write  one.  This  was 
the  same  "  Tres  Tabernae "  to  which  the  Ro- 
man Christians  went  out  to  meet  the  Apostle 
Paul,  to  welcome  him  with  brotherly  greet- 
ings after  the  trials  of  his  Christian  Odyssey. 
We  read  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  how 
great  his  joy  was  when  he  saw  them,  and 
how  "  he  thanked  God  and  took  courage.1' 
He  had  no  need,  however,  of  the  tavern. 
The  hospitality  of  Christian  fraternity,  which 
he  had  praised  so  beautifully  in  his  message 
to  the  Roman  community,  now  received  him 
with  open  arms. 

The  very  name  "  tavern/'  which  in  its 
Latin  original  means  a  small  wooden  house 
built  of  "  tabuke,"  or  blocks,  indicates  the 
very  modest  origins  of  professional  hospital- 
ity. And  we  must  distinguish,  in  the  olden 
times  as  in  the  Middle  Ages,  between  hospi- 
tality proper,  which  takes  the  guest  in  over- 
night, and  the  mere  charity  which  refreshes 
him  with  food  and  drink  and  sends  him  on 
his  way. 

The  original  sign  of  the  tavern-keeper  is 
29 


the  wreath  of  ivy  with  which  Bacchus  and 
his  companions  are  crowned,  and  which 
twines  around  the  Bacchante's  thyrsos  staff. 
As  the  ivy  is  evergreen,  so  is  Bacchus  ever 
young  ("juvenis  semper"),  Shakespeare's 
"  eternal  boy."  As  the  ivy  winds  its  closely 
clinging  vine  around  all  things,  so  Bacchus 
enmeshes  the  senses  of  men.  Thus  the  cus- 
tom grew  of  crowning  the  wine-jars  with 
ivy,  a  custom  which  Matthias  Claudius,  in 
his  famous  Rhine  wine  song,  has  described 
thus :  - 

"  Crown  with  ivy  the  good  full  jars 

And  drink  them  to  the  lees. 
In  all  of  Europe,  my  jolly  tars, 
You  '11  find  no  wines  like  these." 

Now,  whether  a  good  wine  really  needed 
the  recommendation  of  the  wreath  was  a 
question  on  which  experts  were  not  agreed. 
In  general,  the  ancients  leaned  to  the  opin- 
ion that  "  good  wine  needs  no  bush "  — 
"Vino  vendibili  suspensa  hedera  non  opus 
est."  The  French  later  expressed  the  same 
idea  in  their  proverb,  "  A  bon  vin  point 
d'enseigne  " ;  though  La  Fontaine  seems  to 
have  been  of  a  different  mind  when  he  said, 
"  L'enseigne  fait  la  chalandise."  And  Shake- 

30 


(ftncienf 

speare  enters  the  controversy  in  his  epi- 
logue to  "As  You  Like  It,"  when  he  makes 
Rosalind  say,  "  If  it  be  true  that  good  wine 
needs  no  bush,  'tis  true  that  a  good  play 
needs  no  epilogue."  An  English  humorist, 
George  Greenfield  of  Henfield  (whoever  he 
may  be),  is  fully  of  the  opinion  that  there 
is  no  need  of  the  bush:  "No,  certainly  not," 
says  he ;  "  all  that  is  wanted  is  a  corkscrew 
and  a  clean  glass  or  two." 

It  is  perfectly  natural  that  gloomy  and  dis- 
trustful natures  like  Schopenhauer's  should 
have  no  confidence  in  the  sign.  He  uses  the 
word  "sign"  always  as  a  synonym  for  de- 
ceit. He  calls  academic  chairs  "  tavern  signs 
of  wisdom  "  ;  and  illuminations,  bands,  pro- 
cessions, cheers,  and  the  like,  "  tavern  signs 
of  joy " — "whereas  real  joy  is  generally 
absent,  having  declined  to  attend  the  feast." 
Wieland  shows  the  same  mistrust  in  his 
verses  of  Amadis  :  — 

"  The  finest  looks  prove  only  for  the  soul 
What  gilded  signs  prove  for  the  tavern-bowl." 

On  the  other  hand,  happy  optimistic  natures 
like  Fischart's,  the  author  of  the  famous 
"  Ship  of  Fools"  ("  Narrenschiff"),  and  per- 
haps of  its  jolly  woodcuts  as  well,  give  full 

31 


credence  to  a  handsome  sign.  "  How  shall 
you  think/'  says  he,  "  that  poor  wine  can 
go  with  so  brave  a  sign  displayed,  or  that  so 
neat  an  inn  can  harbor  a  slovenly  host  or 
guest?" 

We  can  see  what  an  important  business 
the  making  of  wreaths  was  in  ancient  times 
by  the  place  which  the  Amorettes,  who  were 
engaged  in  this  work,  had  in  the  favorite 
Pompeian  wall  frescoes,  which  portray  Cu- 
pids in  varied  activities.  We  look  into  the 
workshop  where  a  small  winged  figure  is 
working  industrially  twining  garlands ;  or 
into  the  sale-shop  where  a  tiny  Psyche  is 
asking  the  price  of  a  wreath.  The  winged 
saleslady  answers  her  in  the  finger  language 
which  the  Italians  still  use  :  "  Since  it  is  you, 
pretty  maiden,  only  two  ases." 

A  very  favorite  tavern  sign  in  the  later 
times  also  dates  from  high  antiquity,  namely, 
the  pentagram,  triangles  intersecting  so  as  to 
make  this  figure  %V  The  Pythagoreans  held 
this  as  a  talisman  of  health  and  protection. 
The  Northern  myths  called  the  sign  a  foot- 
print of  a  swan-footed  animal.  They  called 
it  the  "  Drudenfuss,"  and  thought  it  would 
protect  men  against  evil  spirits  like  the 

32 


(ftncimf 

"Trude,"  a  female  devil-nixie  which  har- 
assed sleepers.  We  see  the  sign  in  the  study- 
scene  in  the  first  part  of  "  Faust "  ;  and  re- 
mark how  evil  spirits  and  the  devil  himself 
could  slip  into  human  habitations  if  the 
pentagram  before  the  door  was  not  fully 
closed  at  the  apexes  —  but  had  a  hard  time 
getting  out  again.  The  elfish  verses  are  well 
known :  — 

"  Mephistopheles :   I  must  confess  it !  just  a  little  thing 
Prevents  my  getting  out  beyond  the  threshold  : 
That  is  the  Drudenfuss  before  the  door. 

"  Faust :  Ah,  then  the  pentagram  is  in  thy  way  ! 
So  tell  me  then,  abandoned  son  of  Hell, 
If  that  can  stop  thee  how  thou  earnest  in ; 
Can  such  a  spirit  be  so  tricked  and  caught  ! 

"  Mephistopheles :   Look   closely  !  It  is   badly  drawn  : 

one  angle, 
The  one  that 's  pointing  outward,  is  not  closed. 

"  Faust :  Ah,  that 's  a  lucky  fall  of  fortune  then  ; 
It  makes  thee  willy-nilly  captive  here." 

Besides  wreath  and  pentagram,  we  find 
among  the  ancients  a  third  customary  sign 
of  hospitality,  namely,  a  chessboard,  which 
invited  the  passer-by  to  a  game  of  draughts 
along  with  a  draught  of  wine.  The  game 
was  not  chess,  for  that  came  to  Europe  from 
the  East  in  the  post-classical  age.  Hogarth's 

33 


engraving  "  Beerstreet "  shows  us  that  this 
sign  prevailed  in  old  England,  for  the  char- 
acteristic signpost  in  front  of  the  tavern  door 
is  painted  in  black  and  white  checkered 
squares. 

Painted  and  carved  animal  images  also 
served  as  signs  in  Roman  times.  We  have  a 
few  examples  left,  and  the  names  of  a  great 
many  more.  In  Pompeii  there  was  a  little  inn 
called  the  "  Elephant/'  in  which  one  could 
rent  a  dining-room  with  three  couches  and 
all  modern  comforts  ("  cum  commodis  om- 
nibus"). The  sign  represents  an  elephant, 
around  whose  body  a  serpent  is  entwined, 
and  to  whose  defense  a  dwarf  is  running.  It 
was  an  animal  scene  on  an  old  sign  that  in- 
spired Phasdron  with  his  fable  of  the  battle 
of  the  rats  and  the  weasels ;  so  the  author 
tells  us  at  the  opening  of  his  poem  :  "  His- 
toria  quorum  et  in  tabernis  pingitur."  Per- 
haps the  host  of  the  "  Elephant  "  had  an  an- 
cestor in  the  African  wars,  and  in  his  honor 
chose  the  African  animal  as  a  sign;  just  as 
the  host  of  the  "  Cock/'  in  the  Roman  Fo- 
rum, hung  out  for  a  sign  a  Cimbric  shield 
captured  in  the  old  wars  against  Germania. 
On  the  shield  he  had  painted  a  stately  rooster 

34 


(ftncimf 

with  the  inscription  :  "  Imago  galli  in  scuto 
Cimbrico  picta."  The  choice  of  the  ele- 
phant, however,  might  be  due  simply  to  the 
preference  which  tavern-keepers  showed  for 
strange  and  wonderful  beasts.  For  the  trav- 
eler would  first  stop  and  stare  at  the  queer 
animal,  and  then,  like  as  not,  turn  in  at  the 
door,  half  expecting  that  the  wily  host  might 
be  harboring  the  very  beast  in  real  life. 
There  was  a  grand  elephant  sign  on  a  Strass- 
burg  tavern,  which  invited  to  a  hospitable 
table  the  young  students  of  the  town,  es- 
pecially the  law  students  —  among  them  a 
young  man  named  Goethe.  The  elephant 
stood  erect  on  his  hind  legs,  and  the  toast 
of  the  students  was:  "a  1'eleve  en  droit" 
(a  Telephant  droit). 

Among  other  figures  of  animals  on  Roman 
signs  the  eagle  was  a  great  favorite.  The 
Romans  bore  the  eagle  on  their  standards, 
after  having  long  accorded  the  honor  to  the 
she-wolf,  the  minotaur,  and  the  wild  boar. 
The  Corinthians  likewise  carried  a  Pegasus, 
and  the  Athenians  an  owl,  on  their  banners. 
The  sign  was  closely  related  to  the  banner : 
it  was  a  kind  of  rigid  flag.  We  shall  see  later, 
in  the  Dutch  pictures,  how,  at  the  jolly  ker- 

35 


(Ancient 

mess,  flag  and  shield  together  invited  the 
peasant  to  drink  and  dance.  In  mediaeval 
France  the  tavern  hosts  hung  out  flags  on 
which  the  sign  was  painted  or  woven  in 
colors.  The  French  word  "  enseigne  "  means 
originally  a  flag :  "  Le  signe  militaire  sous 
lequel  se  rangent  les  soldats,"  as  the  classic 
definition  in  Diderot's  famous  Encyclopedie 
runs.  A  secondary  definition  is :  "  Le  petit 
tableau  pendu  a  une  boutique/* 

The  Romans  seldom  had  signs  that  hung 
free,  such  as  the  Cimbric  shield  described 
above.  Generally  their  signs  were  paintings 
or  reliefs  on  a  wall.  There  were  in  the  shops 
of  Pompeii  depressions  in  the  wall  made  es- 
pecially to  receive  these  signs.  So,  too,  the 
so-called  "  dealbator  "  whitewashed  a  place 
on  the  wall  for  the  election  bulletins.  Some- 
times the  painter  used  wood  or  glass  as  the 
ground  for  his  sign. 

We  find  all  the  Roman  animal  signs  — 
storks,  bears,  dragons,  as  well  as  the  eagle, 
the  cock,  and  the  elephant  —  in  the  later 
Christian  ages.  It  is  not  impossible  that  the 
eagle  signs  of  later  days  are  the  direct  de- 
scendants of  the  old  Roman  eagle  ;  and  they 
probably  existed  in  most  of  the  old  towns 

36 


(Ancient 

founded  by  the  Romans  —  Mayence,  Speyer, 
Worms,  Basel,  Constance.  The  names  that 
have  come  down  to  us  are  chiefly  of  taverns 


in  the  African  colonies.  Here  we  find,  cu- 
riously enough,  the  wheel  ("ad  rotam  "), 
the  symbol  of  St.  Catherine,  which  we  shall 
meet  later  in  Christian  lands ;  for  example, 

37 


in  a  picturesque  sign  in  the  old  town   of 
Ravensburg  in  Wiirttemberg. 

In  Spain  we  find  the  Moor   ("  ad  Mau- 
rum")  who  kept  his  popularity  for  centu- 


ries.  In  Sardinia,  Hercules,  the  pattern  of  the 
later  hero  with  the  "  big  stick/'  as  he  ap- 
pears in  the  German  sign  at  Esslingen.  Some 
of  the  inns  had  names  of  heathen  divinities, 
like  Diana,  or  Mercury,  the  god  of  com- 
merce, or  Apollo,  whose  emblem  the  sun 
shed  its  inviting  rays  from  so  many  a  tavern 

38 


portal  in  fair  and  foul  weather  alike.  A 
tavern  in  Lyons  was  named  "  Ad  Mercurium 
et  Apollinem  "  :  "  Mercurius  hie  lucrum  per- 
mittit,  Apollo  salutem "  ("Here  Mercury 
dispenses  prosperity,  and  Apollo  health"). 
It  is  possible  that  these  taverns  had  gods  as 
signs,  just  as  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  streets 
abounded  in  images  of  the  Madonna  and 
saints,  which  invited  the  traveler  to  turn  in 
for  profit  or  pleasure.  Tertullian  tells  us  that 
there  was  not  a  public  bath  or  tavern  with- 
out its  image  of  a  god:  "balnea  et  stabula 
sine  idolo  non  sunt."  After  the  victory  of 
Christianity  the  images  of  the  gods  were 
cheap  :  tavern-keepers  could  buy  them  for  a 
few  obols.  We  can  little  doubt  that  among 
this  "rubbish"  was  many  a  precious  work 
of  art  which  the  museums  of  to-day  would 
be  proud  to  own. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  an  un- 
broken tradition  connects  the  signs  of  the 
Middle  Ages  with  those  of  like  name  in 
classical  antiquity.  Many  a  sign  may  have 
been  invented  anew.  But  that  we  have 
learned  much  directly  from  the  old  Romans 
in  the  field  of  hospitality  is  proved  by  a  curi- 
ous fact.  The  Bavarian  Knodel,  which  every 

39 


true  Bajuware  claims  as  an  indigenous,  na- 
tional institution,  are  prepared  to-day  exactly 
like  the  old  Roman  "  globuli,"  after  the 
recipes  of  Columella  and  Varro.  Such,  at 
least,  is  the  assurance  of  Herr  von  Liebenau 
in  his  interesting  book  on  Swiss  hospitality. 
We  remarked  above  that  it  was  by  their 
roads  especially  that  the  Romans  extended 
their  power  over  all  the  world.  We  must 
notice  now  briefly  the  Roman  post-system, 
the  "cursus  publicus,"  whose  coaches  proba- 
bly carried  travelers  from  tavern  to  tavern 
like  the  modern  mail-coaches.  We  must, 
however,  curb  the  imagination  of  the  reader 
with  a  reminder  that  practically  only  the 
state  officials  used  this  service.  Not  every 
country  bumpkin  could  mount  with  market- 
basket  on  his  arm,  to  make  a  jolly  journey 
over  hill  and  dale  to  the  sound  of  the  echo- 
ing horn.  Still  the  Emperor  or  his  prefect 
could  issue  tickets  to  private  persons ;  and 
furthermore,  these  persons  could,  under  cer- 
tain circumstances,  get  a  sort  of  Cook's  ticket, 
called  "diploma  tractoria,"  which  included 
board  and  lodging  as  well  as  transportation. 
If  the  journey  lay  through  a  lonely  region, 
where  there  were  no  private  taverns  to  pro- 

40 


vide  shelter  for  the  night,  the  traveler  might 
put  up  at  the  state  inn  ("mansio")  which 
the  province  was  obliged  to  maintain  at  pub- 
lic cost,  with  all  the  necessities  and  comforts 
to  which  respectable  Roman  travelers  were 
accustomed.  One  can  well  understand  how, 
as  the  empire  disintegrated,  the  provincials 
were  glad  to  throw  off  this  hated  compul- 
sory tax  for  the  support  of  the  state  inn.  It 
was  not  till  the  time  of  Charlemagne  that 
the  institution  was  revived  as  a  military- 
feudal  service  along  the  routes  of  the  impe- 
rial army.  Whether  these  Roman  state  inns 
displayed  signs  or  not,  we  do  not  know.  It 
is,  however,  very  likely  that  they  were  dis- 
tinguished by  the  sign  of  the  Roman  eagle, 
and  so  became  the  type  of  the  later  private 
eagle  inns. 

Here  let  us  remark  that  the  post-coaches 
of  our  own  day,  which  seem  to  us  an  insti- 
tution dating  from  the  Deluge,  are  a  com- 
paratively late  invention.  The  first  so-called 
"  land-coach "  in  Germany  was  established 
between  Ulm  and  Heidelberg  in  the  year 
1683.  Through  all  the  Middle  Ages  and  the 
Renaissance  period,  we  depended  on  mounted 
messengers,  traveling  cloister  brothers,  uni- 


versity  students,  and  rare  travelers  to  carry 
messages.  In  Wurttemberg,  where  we  find 
to-day  the  most  abundant  reminders  of  the 
good  old  post-coach  days,  and  consequently 
the  finest  old  signs,  bands  of  "noble  post- 
boys" are  found,  including  the  distinguished 
names  of  Trotha  and  Hutten. 

That  the  common  workman,  even  in  the 
Roman  days,  had  to  use  " shank's  mare" 
when  he  went  traveling  goes  without  say- 
ing. But  the  well-to-do  burgher  or  trader 
who  had  no  license  to  ride  in  the  state  post- 
coach  rode  on  his  horse  or  his  high  mule. 
Horse  and  saddle  remained  for  centuries  the 
only  method  of  travel  after  the  Roman  roads 
had  fallen  into  that  state  of  dilapidation  from 
which  they  fully  recovered  only  in  the  days 
of  Napoleon.  One  needs  only  to  look  at  the 
coaches  of  princes  in  past  centuries  to  see 
for  what  bottomless  mud-bogs  these  lumber- 
ing vehicles  were  built.  Montaigne  rode  on 
horseback  from  his  home  in  Bordeaux  to  the 
baths  of  southern  France  and  Italy,  although 
he  seems,  from  the  entries  in  his  diary,  to 
have  been  very  much  afflicted  with  "  dis- 
tempers." 

A  late  Roman  relief  found  in  Isernia  (in 

42 


(Ancient 

Samnium) — a  kind  of  tavern  sign  —  shows 
us  a  traveler  holding  his  mule  by  the  bridle 
as  he  takes  leave  of  the  hostess  and  pays  his 
account.  The  traveler  has  on  his  cloak  and 
hood.  The  hood,  even  up  to  Seume's  time 
(i.e.,  up  to  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century), 


was  generally  worn  by  travelers  in  Italy, 
and  especially  in  Sicily :  "  My  mule-driver 
showed  a  tender  solicitude  for  me,"  wrote 
Seume,  "and  gave  me  his  hood.  He  could 
not  understand  how  I  dared  to  travel  with- 
out one.  This  peculiar  kind  of  dark-brown 
mantle  with  its  pointed  headgear  is  the  stand- 
ard dress  in  all  Italy,  and  especially  in  Sicily. 
I  took  a  great  fancy  to  it,  and  if  I  may  judge 

43 


(Ancient 

from  this  night's  experience,  I  have  a  great 
inclination  toward  Capuchin  vows,  for  I  slept 
very  well." 

We  have  had  to  confine  ourselves  in  the 
treatment  of  ancient  signs  entirely  to  Roman 
examples,  for  we  have  very  little  knowledge 
of  Greek  signs.  In  fact,  the  tavern  sign  seems 
to  have  come  late  into  Greece,  through  Ro- 
man influence.  We  hear  of  a  tavern  "  The 
Camel "  at  the  Piraeus,  also  of  a  sailors'  inn 
having  the  sign  in  relief:  a  boiled  calf's  head 
and  four  calf's  feet. 

We  shall  later  see  what  an  important  part 
signs  played  in  directing  travelers  in  a  city 
through  the  Middle  Ages  and  even  in  mod- 
ern times.  They  took  the  place  of  house 
numbers  and  street  names.  In  ancient  Rome 
a  whole  quarter  was  often  named  after  an 
inn,  like  the  "  Bear  in  the  Cap  "  ("  vicus  ursi 
pileati  ").  This  is  the  longest-lived  bear  in 
history :  he  lives  even  to-day.  An  excellent 
German  tavern  guide,  Hans  Earth,  writes  in 
his  delightful  little  book  "  Osteria  "  :  "  On  the 
quay  of  the  Tiber  was  the  famous  old  inn  of 
the  Bear,  where  Charlemagne  lodged,  be- 
cause the  Cafarelli  Palace  was  not  yet  built ; 
where  Father  Dante  frolicked  with  the 

44 


anb  Canons  V 


pussy-cats ;  where  Master  Rabelais  raised  his 
famous  bumpers  of  wine/'  In  Montaigne's 
time  the  Bear  was  so  frightfully  stylish  an 
inn,  with  its  rooms  hung  with  gilded  leather, 
that  the  essayist  stayed  there  only  two  days 
and  then  forthwith  sought  a  private  lodging. 

In  modern  Italy  there  are  only  a  few  in- 
teresting signs.  The  most  delightful  ones 
(the  Golden  Cannon,  and  the  Bell)  we  found 
in  the  main  street  of  the  North  Italian  moun- 
tain town  of  Borgo  San  Dalmazzo.  The 
"White  Horse"  ("cavallo  bianco")  was  a 
little  off  the  main  street.  The  form  of  these 
was  probably  influenced  by  the  proximity  of 
Switzerland  —  a  country  very  rich  in  beau- 
tiful signs. 

Seume,  who  had  the  finest  opportunity  for 
studying  taverns  and  signs  in  his  walking 
tour  from  Leipzig  to  Syracuse,  often  men- 
tions the  name  of  his  inn;  as,  for  instance, 
"Hell  "in  Imola,  or  the  "Elephant"  in 
Catania.  But  there  was  only  one  Italian  town 
in  which  the  signs  impressed  him :  that  was 
Lodi.  "  The  people  of  Lodi,"  he  writes, 
"must  be  very  imaginative  if  one  can  judge 
them  from  their  signs.  One  of  them,  over  a 
shoemaker's  shop,  represents  a  Genius  taking 

45 


(Ancient 

a  man's  measure  —  a  motif  which  reminds 
one  of  Pompeii." 

Our  excellent  guide,  who  has  an  eye  for 
everything  picturesque,  does  not  seem  to 
have  met  much  of  interest  from  Verona  to 
Capri.  An  exception  was  the  "Osteria  del 
Penello,"  in  Florence,  on  the  Piazza  San 
Martino,  a  tavern  established  about  the  year 
1 500  by  Albertinelli,  the  friend  of  Raphael. 
On  the  sign  over  the  door  was  the  jolly  curly 
head  of  the  founder,  who,  when  the  envy  of 
his  colleagues  poisoned  the  work  of  his  brush, 
here  established  a  tavern.  An  inscription 
read:  "Once  I  painted  flesh  and  blood,  and 
earned  only  contempt;  now  I  give  flesh  and 
blood,  and  all  men  praise  my  good  wine." 

Earth  also  mentions,  by  the  way,  the  char- 
acteristic wall-paintings  of  Italy  that  rest  on 
the  old  Roman  tradition  and  yet  serve  as 
tavern  signs,  like  the  "Three  Madonnas " 
of  the  Porta  Pincia  in  Rome:  "A  portal 
decorated  with  three  pictures  of  the  Mother 
of  God  leads  into  the  green  garden  court." 

Lest  the  thought  of  a  religious  painting 
serving  as  a  tavern  sign  should  shock  any  of 
our  readers,  we  hasten  to  turn  to  the  study 
of  religious  hospitality  and  its  emblems. 


CHAPTER   III 
ECCLESIASTICAL  HOSPITALITY  AND  ITS  SIGNS 


CHAPTER  III 

ECCLESIASTICAL  HOSPITALITY  AND  ITS 
SIGNS 

"Use  hospitality  one  to  another  without  grudging." 

i  Peter  iv,  9. 

ROME  was  to  conquer  the  northern  Germanic 
world  once  more,  not  with  the  sword  as  had 
been  the  case  in  the  olden  days  of  a  pagan 
Rome,  but  with  the  cross  and  its  exponent, 
the  monk.  The  northward  surging  wave  of 
Roman  Caesarism  had  been  followed  by  the 
tidal  wave,  southward-roaring,  of  Germanic 
barbarians.  The  orderly  life  of  one  vast  em- 
pire gave  way  to  the  restlessness  and  inse- 
curity of  the  period  of  migration  and  a  shat- 
tered empire.  Not  individuals  but  whole 
peoples  go  a-traveling  with  household  goods 
and  wife  and  children,  whole  towns  and 
countries  become  their  inns,  the  standard  of 
the  conquerors  are  their  tavern  signs.  Then 
again  flowing  northward,  progressing  by  in- 
sensible stages,  comes  the  silent  throng  of 
monastic  brotherhoods,  the  Benedictines  in 
the  van,  who  bring  forth  various  orders  from 

49 


their  midst,  the  Cistercians  among  others, 
who  dig  and  reclaim  the  soil  with  their 
spades  and  later,  as  builders,  dedicate  it  to 
their  God,  unknown  and  now  revealed,  with 
high-soaring  monuments  of  worship. 

Undaunted  by  solitude,  fearless  of  the 
wildness  of  desolate  regions,  they  enter  the 
forest  primeval  to  clear  it  and  establish  quiet 
homesteads  for  themselves  and  their  worship ; 
their  doors  are  open  to  all  those  who  pass 
their  way.  For  had  not  St.  Benedict,  mind- 
ful of  repeated  apostolic  admonitions  to  the 
bishops,  included  hospitality  in  the  rules  of 
his  order  ?  Therefore  ere  long  there  lacked 
not  in  any  convent  certain  rooms  given  over 
to  the  comfort  of  the  wayfarer,  be  it  a  "  hos- 
pitium,"  a  "hospitale,"  or  a  "receptaculum." 
Witness  the  Hospice  of  the  Great  St.  Ber- 
nard in  the  Alps  of  the  Vallais,  named  after 
the  pious  founder  of  that  earliest  of  Occi- 
dental orders,  part  of  the  convent  erected 
in  the  ninth  century  by  the  bishops  of  Lau- 
sanne, while  the  shelter  on  Mont  Cenis  is 
said  to  date  back  to  a  past  equally  remote. 
Beginning  with  the  year  1000,  convents 
likewise  erect  inns  in  the  villages,  outside 
of  their  immediate  domains,  leasing  these 

50 


against  rental,  while  in  the  towns  pilgrim 
inns,  poor  men's  taverns,  and  "Seelhauser  " 
are  endowed  for  the  free  housing  of  pilgrims 
and  wayfarers,  evolving  later  into  town 
inns. 

To  the  pilgrim,  then,  who  wended  his 
way  to  the  tombs  of  saints,  and,  in  the  cru- 
sade times,  to  the  holiest  of  graves  in  Jeru- 
salem, mediaeval  hospitality  is  mainly  devoted. 
The  crusaders  were  agents  of  especial  power 
in  the  development  of  hospitality,  since  on 
his  lengthy  journey  the  pilgrim  stood  in  need, 
not  only  of  food  and  shelter,  but  also  of  con- 
voy along  roads  perilous  everywhere.  The 
Knights  of  St.  John  set  themselves  these  two 
tasks,  to  care  for  the  pilgrims  and  escort 
them  in  safety,  which  is  implied  by  their 
name  "fratres  hospitales  S.  Johannis."  In 
the  rule  of  their  order  (ca.  1118)  the  fore- 
most duty  of  lay  as  well  as  clerical  brothers 
was  to  serve  the  poor,  "our  lords/'  With 
like  intent  of  safeguarding  pilgrims  the 
Order  of  Knights  Templars  was  instituted 
in  1119,  especially  for  the  care  of  German 
pilgrims.  We  may  venture  to  assume  from 
their  name,  "  Order  of  the  German  House 
of  our  dear  Lady  in  Jerusalem,"  that  a  home- 

51 


like  Madonna  picture  adorned  their  hospi- 
table house  as  a  pious  welcome.  Shakespeare 
has  inimitably  described  the  warlike  duties 
of  these  orders,  duties  which  went  hand  in 
hand  with  kindly  care  and  hospitality,  in  the 
first  part  of  "  Henry  I V  "  :  - 

"  To  chase  these  pagans,  in  those  holy  fields 
Over  whose  acres  walk'd  those  blessed  feet 
Which,  fourteen  hundred  years  ago,  were  nailed 
For  our  advantage,  on  the  bitter  cross." 

These  knightly  orders,  whose  hospitable 
roofs  originally  sheltered  the  pious  pilgrims 
bound  for  Jerusalem,  also  opened  in  wel- 
come the  gates  of  their  proud  houses  at 
home,  which  still  adorn  more  than  one  old 
German  town.  When  Luther  was  summoned 
to  Worms  by  the  Emperor,  in  1521,  he 
stayed  with  the  Knights  of  St.  John.  Here 
in  this  noble  inn  he  exclaimed  to  his  friends, 
after  the  ordeal,  with  upraised  arms,  and  face 
shining  with  joy :  "  I  am  through,  I  am 
through/*  Like  an  enduring  rock  he  had 
stood  his  ground  and  had  expressed  his  un- 
alterable will  to  be  a  free  Christian  in  those 
famous  words :  "  Hier  stehe  ich,  ich  kann 
nicht  anders,  Gott  helfe  mir  !  Amen." 
In  like  manner  Luther  had  accepted  ec- 

52 


clesiastical  hospitality  on  his  journey  Rome- 
ward,  as  a  young  monk,  notably  on  the  part 
of  the  Order  of  St.  Augustine.  From  the 
pages  of  that  Baedeker  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, the  "  Mirabilia  Romae,"  we  can  real- 
ize how  thoroughly  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome 
was  viewed  in  those  days  as  a  pious  journey 
to  hallowed  places,  relics  and  tombs  of  the 
saints.  The  work  referred  to  appeared  first 
as  a  block-book,  with  pictures  and  text  both 
printed  from  the  same  wood  block.  The 
youthful  monk  may  well  have  carried  such 
an  early  copy  of  the  "Mirabilia"  in  his  cowl 
when  he  entered  the  holy  precincts  of  the 
Eternal  City,  which  revealed  itself  to  his 
great  disillusionment  as  an  ungodly  spot  and 
the  seat  of  Anti-Christ.  Occasionally  we 
also  see  the  great  reformer  descending  at  a 
lay  tavern,  such  as  the  famous  inn  of  the 
High  Lily  in  Erfurt,  which  subsequently  saw 
within  its  walls  great  warriors  like  Maurice 
of  Saxony  and  Gustavus  Adolphus. 

To  this  day  there  is  in  England  a  hospital 
founded  by  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  in  which 
every  wayfarer  can  obtain  bread  and  ale  upon 
request.  This  is  the  "  Hospital  of  St.  Cross 
without  the  walls  of  Winchester,"  as  it  is 

53 


anb  ite 

called  in  a  document  in  the  British  Museum  ; 
ceded  by  the  Knights  Hospitallers  of  St. 
John  of  Jerusalem  to  Richard  Toclive, 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  in  1185,  the  bishop 
raising  the  number  of  .poor  there  entertained 
from  113  to  213,  of  whom  200  were  to  be 
fed  and  I  3  fed  and  clothed.  Emerson  once 
made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  hospital,  claimed 
and  received  the  victuals,  and  triumphantly 
quoted  the  incident  as  a  proof  of  the  majes- 
tic stabilities  of  English  institutions.  In  his 
wake  numberless  Americans  yearly  wend 
their  way  to  the  Hospital  of  the  Holy  Cross, 
and  to  the  beautiful  Minster  of  Winchester 
embedded  in  verdure.  There  they  lodge 
either  at  the  "  George,"  or,  more  cozily  yet, 
in  the  ancient  "God  begot  House"  of  a 
type  found,  perhaps,  in  England  only. 

Another  American  no  less  renowned, 
Mark  Twain,  the  "  New  Pilgrim,"  as  he 
styled  himself,  has  felt  on  his  own  physical 
self  the  blessings  of  clerical  hospitality  in 
Palestine,  the  land  of  ecclesiastic  founda- 
tions, which  he  celebrates  as  follows  in  his 
" Innocents  Abroad ":  "I  have  been  edu- 
cated to  enmity  toward  all  that  is  Catholic, 
and  sometimes,  in  consequence  of  this,  I  find 

54 


it  much  easier  to  discover  Catholic  faults 
than  Catholic  merits.  But  there  is  one  thing 
I  feel  no  disposition  to  overlook,  and  no  dis- 
position to  forget :  and  that  is,  the  honest 
gratitude  I  and  all  pilgrims  owe  to  the  Con- 
vent Fathers  in  Palestine.  Their  doors  are 
always  open,  and  there  is  always  a  welcome 
for  any  worthy  man  who  comes,  whether  he 
comes  in  rags  or  clad  in  purple.  ...  A  pil- 
grim without  money,  whether  he  be  a  Prot- 
estant or  a  Catholic,  can  travel  the  length 
and  breadth  of  Palestine,  and  in  the  midst  of 
her  desert  wastes  find  wholesome  food  and 
a  clean  bed  every  night,  in  these  buildings. 
.  .  .  Our  party,  pilgrims  and  all,  will  always 
be  ready  and  always  willing  to  touch  glasses 
and  drink  health,  prosperity,  and  long  life  to 
the  Convent  Fathers  in  Palestine/' 

We  may  well  believe  that  private  indi- 
viduals then  as  now  bid  for  the  patronage  of 
pilgrims.  Shakespeare  tells  us  of  a  case  in 
point,  in  his  "All's  Well  that  Ends  Well" 
(Act  in,  Sc.  v).  Helena  appears  in  Florence 
in  search  of  her  husband  gone  to  the  wars, 
"clad  in  the  dress  of  a  pilgrim,"  and  in- 
quires where  the  palmers  lodge.  A  kindly 
widow  tells  her  "  at  the  Franciscans  here 

55 


near  the  port "  ;  but  knows  how  to  win  the 
fair  pilgrim  by  her  words  :  — 

"  I  will  conduct  you  where  you  shall  be  lodged 
The  rather,  for,  I  think,  I  know  your  hostess 
As  ample  as  myself." 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  consider  how 
pilgrims  made  their  long  journey  more  toil- 
some yet,  as  related  by  Helena  herself,  - 

cc  Barefoot  plod  I  the  cold  ground  upon 
With  sainted  vow  my  faults  to  have  amended,"  — 

we  shall  appreciate  how  gratefully  the  proffer 
of  the  good  widow  must  have  been  accepted. 
The  hospitality  of  the  monks  was  not  al- 
ways lavish ;  on  the  contrary,  it  proved  scant 
and  poor,  as  Germany's  greatest  troubadour, 
Walter  von  der  Vogelweide,  to  his  sorrow 
experienced.  Once  he  turned  aside  more 
than  four  miles  from  his  road  in  order  to 
visit  the  far-famed  convent  of  Tegernsee. 
The  learned  monks,  whose  library  forms  to- 
day one  of  the  treasures  of  the  State  Library 
in  Munich,  may  have  been  too  deeply  en- 
grossed in  the  transcription  of  a  classic  au- 
thor, or  in  elaborate  miniature  paintings; 
at  any  rate,  they  did  not  realize  what  noble 
guest  sat  at  their  board  and  brought  him- 

56 


not   the   choice  vintage  which    the   thirsty 
poet  expected  but  simply  water  :- 

"  Ich  schalt  sie  nicht,  doch  genade  Gott  uns  beiden, 
Ich  nahm  das  Wasser,  also  nasser 
Musst  ich  von  des  Monches  Tische  scheiden." 

If  guests  were  thus  given  cause  for  com- 
plaints of  their  treatment  by  the  convents, 
the  monks  on  their  side  had  no  less  ground 
for  occasional  displeasure  at  the  abuse  of 
their  hospitality.  Carlyle  cites  an  instance 
of  this  kind  in  "  Past  and  Present  "  ;  the  ex- 
cellent abbot,  Simon  of  Edmundsbury,  had 
forbidden  tournaments  within  his  domain. 
In  spite  of  this  prohibition  twenty-four  young 
nobles  arranged  a  knightly  joust  under  his 
very  nose,  so  to  speak.  Not  content  with 
that,  they  rode  gayly  to  the  convent  at  its 
conclusion  and  demanded  supper  and  a 
night's  lodging.  "  Here  is  modesty/'  says 
Carlyle.  "  Our  Lord  Abbot,  being  instructed 
of  it,  orders  the  Gates  to  be  closed;  the 
whole  party  shut  in.  The  morrow  was  the 
vigil  of  the  Apostles  Peter  and  Paul  ;  no  out- 
gate  on  the  morrow.  Giving  their  promise 
not  to  depart  without  permission,  those  four- 
and-twenty  young  bloods  dieted  all  that  day 
with  the  Lord  Abbot  waiting  for  trial  on  the 

57 


morrow."  And  now  Carlyle  cites  his  own 
source  the  "  Jocelini  Chronica  "  :  But  "  after 
dinner" — mark  it,  posterity!  —  "the  Lord 
Abbot  retiring  into  his  Talamus  ,  they  all 
started  up,  and  began  carolling  and  singing ; 
sending  into  the  Town  for  wine;  drinking 
and  afterwards  howling  (ululantes) ;  —  to- 
tally depriving  the  Abbot  and  Convent  of 
their  afternoon's  nap;  doing  all  this  in  de- 
rision of  the  Lord  Abbot,  and  spending  in 
such  fashion  the  whole  day  till  evening,  nor 
would  they  desist  at  the  Lord  Abbot's  order ! 
Night  coming  on,  they  broke  the  bolts  of 
the  Town-Gates,  and  went  off  by  violence!  " 
Not  only  had  convents  to  suffer  from  such 
exuberant  guests ;  oftener  far  they  were  bur- 
dened by  those  who  forgot  to  depart  and 
continue  their  journey.  The  abbot,  Her- 
boldus  Gutegotus  of  Murrhardt,  the  con- 
vent whose  romantic  church  still  ranks  among 
the  finest  ecclesiastical  monuments  in  Ger- 
many, used  to  tell  such  forgetful  guests  the 
following  little  story :  "  Do  you  know  why 
our  Lord  remained  but  three  days  in  his 
tomb  ?  —  Because  during  that  time  he  was 
making  a  friendly  visit  to  the  patriarchs  and 
prophets  in  Paradise.  So  in  order  not  to 

58 


cause  them  inconvenience  he  took  timely 
leave  and  resurrected  upon  the  third  day." 
Evidently  the  refined  abbot  knew  how  to  veil 
politely  the  old  Germanic  directness  which 
finds  such  clear  expression  in  the  "  Edda  "  : 

"  Go  on  betimes,  loiter  not  as  a  guest  ever  in  our  abode  ; 
He,  though  loved,  becomes   burdensome,  who  warms 
himself  too  long  at  hospitable  fires." 

In  wild  and  inhospitable  countries,  the 
convents  long  remained,  even  till  recent  times, 
the  only  shelters  for  travelers.  Hence,  when 
Henry  VIII  of  England  began  to  confiscate 
monastic  property  on  a  grand  scale,  a  sig- 
nificant revolt  for  their  reinstallment  flamed 
up  in  the  north  of  England,  —  the  so-called 
<<  Pilgrimage  of  Grace  "  of  the  year  1536, 
which  was  suppressed  with  deplorable  stern- 
ness. The  convents  were  very  popular  in 
those  parts  because  the  monks  had  been  the 
only  physicians  and  their  doors  were  always 
open  to  all  wayfarers. 

Chaucer  shows  us  in  his  "  Canterbury 
Tales  "  that  monks  could  be  pleasant  guests 
as  well  as  good  hosts,  for  there  we  read  in 
regard  to  the  friar :  "  He  knew  well  the 
tavernes  in  every  town  "  ;  and  "  What  should 
he  studie  and  make  himself  wood  ?" 

59 


Having  thus  pictured  to  ourselves  the 
clerical  hospitality  of  the  Middle  Ages,  we 
shall  not  wonder  that,  in  outward  signs  for 
the  designation  of  the  houses  as  inns,  reli- 
gious subjects  and  their  pictorial  presentation 
were  adopted. 

Among  the  saints  particularly  revered  by 
the  pious  pilgrims  St.  Christopher  stands 
foremost,  since  he  had  himself  experienced 
so  perilous  a  journey.  In  many  mediaeval  pic- 
tures we  see  him  leaning  on  his  massive  staff, 
carrying  the  Christ  child  across  a  river.  The 
"  Golden  Legend  "  tells  us  that  he  was  nearly 
drowned,  so  heavy  was  the  burden  of  this 
child.  "Had  I  carried  the  whole  world/'  he 
says,  when  finally  reaching  the  shore,  "  my 
burden  could  have  been  no  heavier  ";  where- 
upon the  child  of  whose  identity  he  was  not 
yet  aware :  "  for  a  sign  that  you  have  carried 
on  your  shoulders  not  only  the  world  but  the 
Creator,  thrust  this  staff  into  the  ground  near 
your  hut,  and  behold,  it  will  blossom  and 
bear  fruit."  Hence  the  partiality  for  huge 
pictures  of  St.  Christopher,  visible  afar,  such 
as  we  find  occasionally  to  this  day  in  and 
upon  certain  churches;  for  instance,  the 
spacious  mural  paintings  in  the  church  of 

60 


ite 

St.  Alexander  at  Marbach,  the  birthplace 
of  Schiller,  close  to  the  tracks  on  which  the 
modern  traveler  thunders  past ;  or  the  gi- 
gantic sculpture  on  the  south  side  of  the  ca- 
thedral in  Amiens,  or  the  large  fresco  in  the 
minster  at  Erfurt.  They  give  us  a  conception 
of  similar  presentations  on  Poor  Men's  Inns 
and  ecclesiastical  hospices.  The  belief  in  the 
efficacious  protection  by  the  saint,  especially 
from  sudden  death,  is  expressed  in  the  French 
mediasval  saying  :  "  Qui  verra  Saint  Chris- 
tophe  le  matin,  rira  le  soir."  The  tenacity 
of  this  belief  among  the  people  is  well  in- 
stanced by  the  fact  that  the  jewelers  of  so 
worldly  a  city  as  Nice  sell  to  owners  of  au- 
tomobiles little  silver  plaques,  with  the  pic- 
ture of  the  saint  and  the  inscription,  "  Re- 
garde  St.  Christophe  et  puis  va-t-en  rassure." 
Let  us  hope,  in  the  interest  of  the  rest  of 
mankind,  that  these  motorists  do  not  feel  too 
reassured  in  consequence. 

American  readers  might  be  interested  to 
hear  that  in  their  own  country  a  guest-house 
of  St.  Christopher  gives  refuge  to  the  mod- 
ern fraternity  of  tramps,  charitably  called 
the  "Brother  Christophers"  by  the  Friars 
of  the  Atonement,  who  founded  this  house 

61 


anb  ite 

at  Gray  Moor,  near  the  beautiful  residential 
district  of  Garrison,  in  the  State  of  New 
York. 

Another  saint,  deservedly  in  great  favor,  is 
St.  George,  who  slew  the  dragon,  a  knightly 
patron  who  smooths  the  traveler's  path  and 
makes  it  safe  by  brushing  aside  all  its  threat- 
ening dangers.  Two  of  the  finest  hostelries 
still  existing  are  named  after  him :  the  "  Rit- 
ter  "  in  Heidelberg,  and  the  "  George,"  more 
ancient  yet  by  a  century,  in  the  time-hallowed 
town  of  Glastonbury.  Two  miracles  have 
drawn  pilgrims  to  the  latter  place  since  olden 
times,  the  "  Holy  Thornbush,"  which  had 
blossomed  forth  from  the  staff  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  and  bloomed  every  Christmas, 
and  the  "  Holy  Well,"  in  the  garden  of  the 
cloister  school,  now  deserted,  whose  waters 
were  to  heal  the  bodily  ailments  of  the  pious 
pilgrims.  The  throng  of  wayfarers  to  the 
convent,  whose  gigantic  abbot's  kitchen  is 
eloquent  of  hospitality  on  a  large  scale,  made 
the  establishment  of  a  pilgrim's  inn  outside 
the  walls  imperative.  First  they  erected  the 
"  Abbot's  Inn,"  and  when  this  proved  insuf- 
ficient—  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century 
—  the  elegant  Gothic  structure  was  erected, 

62 


anb  ite 

which  bears  to  this  day  the  ensign  "  Pil- 
grim's Inn/'  but  is  popularly  known  as 
"The  George,"  from  a  likeness  of  the  saint 
which  once  adorned  the  handsome  bracket 
so  happily  wedded  to  the  architecture  of  the 
house.  The  tourist  undaunted  by  fearsome 
reminiscences  may  ask  to  be  given  the  choice 
apartment  there,  the  so-called  "abbot's  cham- 
ber," where  Henry  VIII  rested  on  the  day 
when  he  ordered  the  last  abbot  hung  on  the 
town  gate.  The  fine  four-poster,  it  is  true, 
has  been  sold  to  a  fancier  of  antiquities  and 
replaced  by  a  new  canopied  bed,  but  despite 
this  the  room  retains  its  mediaeval  appear- 
ance. 

About  a  hundred  years  later,  the  delight- 
ful Renaissance  structure,  "  Zum  Ritter," 
was  erected  in  Heidelberg.  Originally  the 
house  of  a  wealthy  Frenchman,  it  was  sub- 
sequently changed  into  a  hostelry  and  took 
its  name  from  the  knight  on  the  peak  of  the 
gable.  Doubtless  no  one  has  ever  sung  the 
praise  of  this  noble  building  more  worthily 
than  Victor  Hugo,  who  visited  Heidelberg 
in  1838,  and  passed  by  the  house  of  St. 
George  every  morning,  as  he  said,  "  pour 
faire  dejeuner  mon  esprit."  Jokingly  he 

63 


observes  that  the  Latin  inscription  (Psalm 
1 27,  i )  has  protected  the  inn  better  than  the 
little  iron  plate  of  the  insurance  firm.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  neither  the  great  conflagra- 
tion of  1635,  during  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
nor  the  fires  started  under  Melac  and  Mare- 
chal  de  Lorges,  in  1689  and  1693,  could 
harm  this  inn,  while  "  all  the  other  houses 
built  without  the  Lord  were  burnt  to  the 
ground/' 

In  England  the  good  knight  St.  George 
was  an  especial  favorite ;  even  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  century  there  were  in  London 
alone  no  less  than  sixty-six  hostelries  of  that 
name.  Truly,  the  pious  meaning  of  old  as- 
sociated with  the  sign  had  long  been  for- 
gotten by  hosts  and  guests  alike,  so  that  as 
early  as  the  seventeenth  century  these  mock- 
ing lines  were  penned  :  - 

"  To  save  a  mayd  St.  George  the  Dragon  slew  — 
A  pretty  tale,  if  all  is  told  be  true. 
Most  say  there  are  no  dragons,  and  't  is  said 
There  was  no  George ;  pray  God  there  was  a  mayd." 

The  pictures  of  the  "valiant  knight's  "  mount 
were  often  so  dubious  that  a  connoisseur  of 
horses  like  Field  Marshal  Moltke,  writing 
from  Kosen,  Thuringia,  construed  it  as  the 

64 


picture  of  a  mad  dog.  On  the  other  hand, 
we  have  such  charming  conceptions  of  St. 
George  as  the  sign  here  shown,  from  the 
hamlet  of  Degerloch,  delightfully  situated 


on  the  heights  overlooking  Stuttgart,  a  nota- 
ble artistic  achievement  in  wrought  iron,  in- 
teresting, moreover,  for  the  associations  of 
merry  chase  linked  with  the  saint  in  the 
mind  of  the  country  folk. 

Among  other  saints  frequently  chosen  for 
tavern  signs,  St.  Martin  must  be  mentioned. 
At  times  he  appears  in  like  manner  as  does 

65 


St.  Christopher ;  for  instance,  on  the  large 
reliefs  decorating  the  fafade  of  the  minster 
in  Basle  :  a  friend  of  the  needy,  dividing  his 
cloak  with  his  sword,  to  share  it  with  them ; 
thus  the  pious  saint  lives  on  in  the  minds  of 
the  people.  At  the  season  of  the  new  wine, 
the  2ist  of  November,  the  Church  com- 
memorates his  name  :  "  A  la  saint  Martin, 
faut  gouter  le  vin,"  is  the  French  saying. 

At  the  sign  of  St.  Dominic  too,  whose 
meaning  of  religious  hospitality  had  been 
utterly  perverted  in  the  course  of  time,  stanch 
topers  used  to  congregate  for  joyous  orgies. 
Proudly  they  called  themselves  "  Domin- 
icans" ;  and 

"  Bons  ivrognes  et  grands  fumeurs 
Qui  ne  cessent  jamais  de  boire" 

is  their  interpretation  of  such  strange  affilia- 
tion, in  a  song  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

St.  Urban  has  likewise  figured  on  many 
a  tavern  sign.  Once  upon  a  time  he  took 
refuge  from  his  pursuers  behind  a  grapevine, 
and  for  that  reason  he  has  become  a  patron 
saint  of  vintners  and  tavern  hosts.  "Alas," 
exclaims  the  refined  Erasmus  of  Rotterdam, 
"  mine  host  is  not  always  as  '  urbane '  as  he 
should  be  to  justify  this  patronage." 

66 


There  is  one  sign  whose  religious  origin 
is  not  self-evident,  namely,  the  "  Fern  me 
sans  tete."  Yet  the  figure  has  its  origin,  no 
doubt,  in  mediaeval  representations  of  saints 
after  decapitation,  sometimes  shown  with 
the  head  in  the  hands.  Whoever  has  pe- 
rused the  illus- 
trated "  Lives 
of  the  Saints" 
with  their  many 
horrible  muti- 
lations of  the 
martyrs  de- 
picted in  wood- 
cuts, must  have 
realized  that 
their  moral  in- 
fluence on  the 

popular  imagination  cannot  have  been  of  a 
beneficial  nature.  Even  great  artists  did  not 
hesitate  to  celebrate  such  awful  scenes  with 
the  power  of  their  genius.  Among  the  draw- 
ings of  Diirer  we  see  the  executioner  with 
his  great  sword  ready  to  behead  St.  Cather- 
ine. Nothing  so  disgusted  Goethe  in  his 
Italian  journey  as  all  the  painted  atrocities 
perpetrated  on  the  martyrs.  The  most  pe- 

67 


THE  GOOD  WOMAN 


culiar  example  of  this  form  of  art  is  proba- 
bly that  in  the  Tower  of  London.  It  is  a  set 
of  horse  armor  presented,  apparently  without 
malice,  by  Emperor  Maximilian  to  Henry 
VIII  of  England,  embellished  with  the  most 
gruesome  scenes  of  martyrdom.  In  theTower, 
where  so  much  innocent  blood  has  flowed, 
one  feels  doubly  repulsed  by  such  excres- 
cences of  so-called  religious  art :  one  is  even 
tempted  to  accept  the  popular  conception 
of  these  beheaded  saints  as  comforting  sym- 
bols of  forgetfulness.  In  fact,  the  oil  mer- 
chants chose  the  "  woman  without  head " 
as  their  sign,  as  one  of  the  foolish  virgins  of 
the  parable  who  had  neglected  to  provide 
themselves  in  good  time  with  the  necessary 
oil :  a  warning  example  to  delaying,  unwill- 
ing customers. 

A  coarser  interpretation  of  the  figure  styles 
it  as  the  "silent  woman/'  or  as  the  "  good 
woman/'  who  can  no  longer  do  mischief 
with  her  tongue.  Moreover,  one  finds  this 
most  gallant  of  signs  —  which  should  be  un- 
mentionable in  these  days  of  woman's  eman- 
cipation—  not  only  in  outspoken  Holland, 
with  the  words :  "  Goede  vrouw  een  man- 
nen  plaag  "  but  also  in  Italy ;  in  Turin,  for 

68 


instance,  styled  as  "  La  buona  moglie."  The 
most  polite  people  on  earth  —  I  do  not  mean 
the  Chinese,  but  the  French  —  have  named 
a  street  in  Paris  the  "  Rue  de  la  Femme  sans 
Tete"  after  a  tavern  of  like  appellation. 
Young  Gavarni  stayed  awhile  in  the  "Au- 
berge  de  la  Femme  sans  Tete"  in  Bayonne, 
as  the  Goncourts  tell  us,  and  waxed  eloquent 
about  the  dainty  charms  of  the  "  vierge  du 
cabaret/'  the  tavern-keeper's  daughter. 

Ben  Jonson,  who  loved  to  discuss  with 
Shakespeare  in  the  Siren  Club  and  to  "anato- 
mize the  times  deformity/'  may  have  been 
stimulated  to  write  his  comedy  "The  Silent 
Woman"  by  the  tavern  sign  of  that  name. 
In  Jonson's  play,  a  Mr.  Morose,  an  original 
old  fellow,  who  holds  all  noise  in  detesta- 
tion, weds  a  young  lady,  whose  barely  audi- 
ble voice  and  scant  replies  have  charmed 
him.  When  after  the  ceremony  she  reveals 
herself  a  loquacious  scold  and  he  gives  vent 
to  his  disappointment,  she  replies  with  these 
endearing  words :  "  Why,  did  you  think  you 
had  married  a  statue,  or  a  motion  only  ?  one 
of  the  French  puppets,  with  the  eyes  turned 
with  a  wire  ?  or  some  innocent  out  of  the 
hospital  that  would  stand  with  her  hands 

69 


thus,  and  a  plaise  mouth,  and  look  upon 
you?" 

But  to  comfort  the  feminists  we  should 
speak  of  a  host  truly  gallant,  who  had  a 
great  white  sign  made,  with  the  inscription 
below,  "  The  Good  Man."  To  the  universal 
inquiry,  "  Where  is  the  good  man  ?  I  can't 
see  him,"  he  made  answer,  "Well,  you  see 
that  is  why  I  have  left  the  blank  space ;  if 
only  I  could  find  him." 

Since  there  is  a  saint  for  every  day  of  the 
calendar,  we  must  not  be  astonished  to  find 
names  among  those  adopted  for  tavern  signs 
which  to  us  bear  no  relation  to  sanctity; 
such  as  St.  Fiacre  over  a  drivers'  bar,  which 
seems  rather  the  invention  of  some  wag. 

We  must  needs  realize  that  all  these  re- 
ligious signs  have  their  origin  in  a  time  when 
popular  imagination  was  mainly  filled  with 
the  happenings  of  the  Bible  and  the  legends 
of  the  saints ;  when  religion  had  not  yet 
grown  to  be  a  Sunday  occupation  of  a  couple 
of  hours,  but  was  most  intimately  interwoven 
with  the  life  of  every  day.  Hence  we  find 
among  subjects  for  signs  not  the  saints  only, 
whose  human  errors  and  sufferings  have  riv- 
eted a  bond  between  them  and  the  com- 

70 


its 

mon  people,  but  also  the  Deity  itself.  "  La 
Trinite  "  was  one  of  the  latter  in  mediaeval 
France,  as  evidenced  by  this  passage  in  the 
song  of  a  pilgrim  :  — 

"  De  la  alay  plus  oultre  encore 
En  un  logis  d'antiquite 
Qui  se  nomme  la  Trinite." 


1 


Other  pilgrim  taverns  styled  themselves 
"  A  Timage  du  Christ."  We  also  meet  with 
such  inscriptions  as  "  L'Humanite  de  Jesus 
Christ,  notre  sauveur  divin  "  ;  the  birth  of 
Christ  as  a  child,  as  in  the  charming  old 
Swiss  sign  "  Hie  zum  Christkindli " ;  the  Ma- 

71 


donna  and  scenes  of  her  life  like  the  "  An- 
nunciation," called  Salutation  in  England. 
These  and  many  other  signs,  such  as  "  Pur- 
gatory/' "  Hell,"  and  "  Paradise,"  which 
have  been  revived  in  modern  Paris  on  fan- 
tastic cabarets,  meet  our  eyes  on  tavern  signs. 
An  old  enumeration  of  London  bars  of 
the  seventeenth  century  begins  with  the 
words :  — 

u  There  has  been  great  sale  and  utterance  of  wine 
Besides  beer  and  ale,  and  ipocras  fine 
In  every  country  region  and  nation 
Chefely  at  Billingsgate,  at  the  Salutation.   ..." 

And  when  the  author  tires  of  mentioning 
them  all  by  name,  he  concludes  with :  — 

u  And  many  like  places  that  make  noses  red." 

Finally,  we  must  turn  to  those  signs,  not 
religious  at  first  sight,  which  may  well  have 
their  origin  in  attributes  of  the  saints.  Thus, 
we  meet  in  Swiss  towns,  which  have  St. 
Gall  as  their  local  patron,  with  the  sign  of 
the  "  Bear";  "  Crown  "  and  "  Star  "  are  the 
symbols  of  the  three  magi  who  followed 
the  star  to  the  lowly  tavern  in  Bethlehem ; 
the  "  Wheel  "  reminds  us  of  the  martyrdom 
of  St.  Catherine;  the  "Stag"  may  be  a  re- 

72 


g  anb  \t* 

minder  of  the  legend  of  St.  Hubert;  while 
the  "  Bell,"  once  used  by  St.  Anthony  to 
drive  away  the  demons  by  its  sound,  was 
fastened  on  the  neck  of  animals  to  preserve 
them  from  epidemic  diseases.  We  often  see 
the  bell,  in  old  woodcuts,  fastened  round 
the  neck  of  the  little  pig  which  accom- 
panies the  saint.  The  bell  assumed  a  very 
worldly  meaning,  when  it  called  the  tip- 
plers to  their  merry  gatherings,  which  called 
forth  in  England  the  patriotic  rhyme  :  — 

"  Let  the  King 
Live  Long ! 
Dong  Ding 
Ding  Dong !  " 

The  Tower  of  St.  Barbara  grew  into  an 
independent  tavern  sign,  which,  misunder- 
stood, occasionally  changed  into  a  cage. 
Even  the  platter  on  which  rested  the  head 
of  the  Baptist  is  deformed  into  the  "  Plat 
d'argent"  over  a  tavern  door.  Hogarth  does 
not  refrain  from  introducing  a  sign  in  his 
engraving  "Noon,"  of  1738,  showing  the 
Baptist's  head  on  a  charger,  with  the  cyni- 
cal inscription  "  Good  Eating."  Whether 
such  coarsenesses  were  actually  perpetrated, 
even  under  the  lax  regime  of  Charles  II 

73 


4))  anb  i 

in  England,  when  frivolity  reigned  after  the 
fall  of  Cromwell,  it  is  hard  to  decide.  Pos- 
sibly they  may  be  set  down  as  brutal  out- 
croppings  of  the  satirist's  truth-deforming 
brain.  The  fact  is,  that  even  in  the  sixteenth 
century  the  abuse  of  religious  subjects  for 
the  most  disreputable  resorts  roused  the  in- 
dignation of  serious,  thinking  men.  Thus  a 
certain  Artus  Desire  indignantly  laments,  in 
a  rhymed  broadside,  that  the  tavern-keepers 
dare  place  over  houses  where  the  great  hell 
devil  himself  is  lodged  the  images  of  God 
and  the  saints  to  advertise  their  vine :  — 

u  De  dieu  les  Sainctz  sont  leur  crieurs  de  vin 
Tant  au  citez  que  villes  et  villages, 
Et  vous  mettront  dessus  les  grands  passages 
Au  lieux  d'horreur  et  d'immondicite 
Des  susditz  sainctz  les  devotes  images 
En  prophanant  leur  preciosite." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SECULAR  HOSPITALITY 

KNIGHTLY  AND  POPULAR  SIGNS 


CHAPTER  IV 

SECULAR   HOSPITALITY  :   KNIGHTLY  AND 
POPULAR  SIGNS 

«'  In  bibliis  ich  sclten  las 
viel  lieber  in  dem  Kruge  sass." 

RlNGWALDT,    1582. 

THE  heavy  castle  gates  in  mediaeval  times 
were  gladly  opened  to  the  minstrels  who 
came  to  charm  with  their  art  the  banquets 
of  the  noble  lords  and  ladies  —  troubadours 
and  minstrels,  the  ancestors  of  that  vast 
and  still  thriving  fraternity  of  poets  whose 
blood  runs  too  quickly  through  their  veins 
to  keep  them  content  in  the  quiet  monotony 
of  a  home.  With  the  sailing  clouds,  with 
the  migrating  birds,  and  the  rising  sun  they 
wander  through  woods  and  fields  "to  be 
like  their  mother  the  wandering  world." 
With  Walt  Whitman  they  love  the  open 
road  and  hate  the  confinement  of  the  stuffy 
room  :  — 

"  Afoot  and  light-hearted,  I  take  the  open  road, 
Healthy,  free,  the  world  before  me, 
The  long  brown  path  before  me,  leading  wherever 
I  choose." 

77 


Never  do  they  feel  happier  than  when  the 
long,  long  road  lies  before  them,  which  now 
seems  to  dip  down  into  the  green  sea  of  the 
forests  and  now  to  climb  straight  into  the 
bright  blue  heaven.  Jean  Richepin,  himself 
a  "chemineau,"  now  well  settled  as  an  hon- 
orable member  of  the  French  Academy,  has 
sung  the  open  road's  praise.  All  poets  feel 
deeply  the  words  of  Kleist,  "  Life  is  a  jour- 
ney." And  how  bitter  the  journey  often  was 
in  the  days  of  the  minstrels,  how  glad  they 
were  when  the  dark  forests  and  unsafe  roads 
lay  behind  them  and  the  big  hearth-fire  of 
the  castle  hall  brightened  face  and  soul ! 
Gratefully  they  praised  the  noble  lord  for  his 
hospitable  reception  and  his  kindly  welcome. 
Thus  Walter  von  der  Vogelweide,  Ger- 
many's greatest  minstrel :  — 

"  Nun  ich  drei  Hofe  weiss,  wo  Ehrenmanner  hausen, 
Fehlt    mir   es   nicht   an   Wein,    kann    meine    Pfanne 

sausen   .   .   . 
Mir  ist  nicht  not,  dass  ich  nach  Herberg  fernumher 

noch  streiche." 

Impoverished  knights  may  have  occasion- 
ally hung  out  an  iron  helmet  over  the  castle 
door  as  a  sign  that  they  were  willing  to 
receive  and  to  entertain  paying  guests:  cer- 

78 


tainly  a  more  honorable  method  of  gaining 
one's  livelihood  than  to  plunder  the  passing 
merchant  or  even  one's  own  peasants,  as  was 
the  noble  fashion  at  the  end  of  mediaeval 
times.  But  it  is  more  likely  that  such  poor 
noblemen  would  first  think  of  using  their 
city  houses  for  such  commercial  purposes 
and  not  their  lonely  and  uninviting  fortified 
castles.  Here  on  one  of  their  city  houses, 
where  they  used  to  lodge  in  time  of  mar- 
kets or  city  festivities,  the  first  iron  helmet 
perhaps  appeared  as  a  knightly  sign.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  we  find  inns  of  such  name 
in  France  as  well  as  in  Germany,  the  most 
famous  one  in  Rothenburg  on  the  Tauber, 
the  best  preserved  mediaeval  city  in  existence, 
infinitely  more  charming  than  the  much- 
talked-about  Carcassonne,  reconstructed  by 
Viollet-le-Duc  with  such  cold  correctness. 
Here  in  the  quaint  hall  of  the  "  Eisenhut" 
under  the  glittering  arms  of  knights  dead  and 
gone,  we  will  rest  awhile  and  gladden  our 
heart  with  the  golden  Tauber  wine.  Let  the 
comfort-seeker  go  to  the  modern  prosaic 
hotel  outside  the  city  wall ! 

The  iron  helmet  is  not  the  only  martial 
tavern  sign.    Other  names  sounded  equally 

79 


well  to  the  soldier's  ear :  in  France  "  Le  Hau- 
bert"  (iron  shirt),  for  instance,  that  might 
remind  us  of  the  old  English  inn,  "  The 
Tabard/'  in  which  Chaucer  gathered  his  joy- 
ous pilgrims  for  happy  meals  and  amusing 
conversations ;  the  sword,  St.  Peter's  attri- 
bute, was  used  as  tavern  sign  in  his  holy 
city  Rome  in  the  sixteenth  century  ("alia 
spada");  the  cannon  was  very  popular  as 
"canone  d'oro"  in  northern  Italy;  and  many 
others. 

Like  chicks  under  the  wings  of  the  hen,  the 
little  huts  of  the  villagers  cluster  around  the 
protecting  mountain  castle  of  the  knightly 
lord.  Most  naturally  the  village  innkeeper, 
therefore,  chooses  his  master's  escutcheon  as 
a  tavern  sign.  And  the  landlord  in  the  town 
feels  equally  honored  when  noble  guests 
leave  him,  as  parting  presents,  their  coats  of 
arms  neatly  painted  on  the  panels  or  the 
windows  of  the  dining-room  as  Montaigne 
informs  us:  "Les  Alemans  sont  fort  amou- 
reux  d'armoiries ;  car  en  tous  les  logis,  il  en 
est  une  miliasse  que  les  passans  jantilshomes 
du  pals  y  laissent  par  les  parois,  et  toutes 
leurs  vitres  en  sont  fournies."  Although  a  phi- 
losopher Montaigne  himself  was  vain  enough 

80 


to  follow  the  pretty  custom,  and  occasion- 
ally to  dedicate  his  escutcheon  to  the  inn- 
keeper as  a  sign  of  his  satisfaction ;  so  in 
"  The  Angel  "  at  Plombieres,  already  a  popu- 
lar resort  even  in  his  day,  and  in  Augsburg 
at  "  The  Linde,"  situated  near  the  palace  of 
the  rich  Fuggers.  Like  a  good  housekeeper, 
who  daily  writes  his  expenses  down,  he  tells 
us  that  the  painter,  who  did  his  work  very 
well,  received  "  deux  escus  "  or  two  dollars, 
the  carpenter  "  vint  solds"  or  a  whole  quar- 
ter, for  the  screen  on  which  the  escutcheon 
was  painted  and  which  was  placed  before  the 
big  green  stove. 

The  painting  of  heraldic  designs  goes  back 
to  the  time  of  the  crusaders  and  soon  became 
the  principal  source  of  income  of  the  paint- 
ers. In  the  Netherlands,  which  grew  to  be 
such  a  wonderful  hotbed  of  art,  the  sign- 
painters  were  called  "  Schilderer,"  for  that 
same  reason,  a  name  which  clings  to  them 
to  the  present  day.  Whoever  has  traveled 
in  England  knows  that  the  same  custom  of 
the  nobility,  to  give  coats  of  arms  to  the 
landlords,  prevailed  there  too.  "  Mol's  Cof- 
fee House  "  in  Exeter,  close  to  the  beauti- 
ful cathedral,  is  a  good  example.  Here  Sir 

81 


Walter  Raleigh  used  to  sit  in  the  paneled 
room  on  the  second  floor,  drink  a  cup  of 
the  beverage  then  quite  rare,  and  chat  with 
his  friends.  All  along  the  walls  the  escutch- 
eons of  the  noble  visitors  of  days  gone  by 
decorate  the  quaint  old  room  and  every 
modern  visitor  admires  them  duly,  especially 
that  of  the  valiant  but  unhappy  seafarer. 

To  come  back  to  the  heraldic  tavern  signs, 
we  find  everywhere  in  German  lands,  where 
once  the  imperial  House  of  Hapsburg  ruled, 
their  coat  of  arms,  the  double  eagle,  and  in 
the  domains  of  the  House  of  Savoy  and  the 
Dukes  of  Lorraine,  the  cross.  In  France 
the  escutcheon  of  the  Bourbons,  the  fleur  de 
lys,  hangs  over  the  tavern  door,  and  in  Eng- 
land the  white  horse  of  the  royal  House  of 
Hanover.  Long  before  the  Georges,  the 
white  horse  was  a  popular  symbol  in  Eng- 
land. The  giant  horse,  roughly  hewn  in 
the  chalk  of  the  "White  Horse  Hill/'  near 
Faringdon,  still  reminds  us  of  Alfred  the 
Great's  victory  over  the  Danes  at  Ashdown 
in  871.  In  our  days  the  noble  white  horse 
has  been  degraded  into  an  advertisement  for 
Scotch  whiskey  —  O  quae  mutatio  rerum  ! 

The  heraldic  meaning  of  the  signs  was 

82 


anb  Qpopufav 

just  as  quickly  forgotten  as  was  the  pious 
significance  of  the  religious  signs.  Only  a 
few  notable  animals,  such  as  lions,  unicorns, 
and  the  like  interested  the  tavern  habitues. 


More  important  than  the  hospitality  un- 
der the  protection  of  knights  and  sovereigns 
was  the  hospitality  extended  to  the  traveler 
behind  big  city  walls.  The  city  government 
provided  not  only  lodgings  for  the  poor  pil- 
grims, tramps,  and  jobless  people,  but  not 

83 


infrequently  offered  hospitality  likewise  to 
the  merchant  who  came  to  display  his  wares 
in  the  open  vaults  of  the  city  hall.  In  the 
famous  "  Rathskeller  "  every  business  transac- 
tion was  duly  celebrated  by  buyer  and  seller ; 
the  brotherly  act  of  drinking  a  glass  of 
wine  together  seemed  to  be  the  essential 
finishing-touch  which  clinched  the  business. 
These  old  cellars  are  still  a  great  attraction 
of  the  town  in  many  German  places,  such 
as  Bremen,  Lubeck,  or  Heilbronn,  for  in- 
stance, and  all  travelers  are  glad  to  refresh 
themselves  in  their  quiet  vaults. 

A  hospitality  of  more  intricate  character 
was  given  by  the  guilds,  in  their  houses,  to 
all  the  members  of  the  trade  or  craft.  Most 
naturally  they  choose  as  signs  symbols  of 
the  special  work  of  each  guild.  The  fisher 
and  boatmen  loved  to  see  a  fish,  an  anchor, 
or  a  ship  over  their  tavern  door ;  but  they 
did  not  claim  these  signs  as  a  special  privi- 
lege, every  "compleat  angler,"  to  use  Izaak 
Walton's  expression,  as  well  as  every  incom- 
plete one,  could  hang  a  fish  out  over  his 
porch  or  on  his  house  corner  even  if  he  did 
not  keep  a  tavern.  The  house  where  Dr. 
Faustus  treated  his  comrades  in  such  miracu- 

84 


lous  way  was  called  "  Zum  Anker''  and  be- 
longed to  a  nobleman  in  Erfurt  if  we  believe 
the  oldest  popular  reports  of  the  event. 
Goethe  transferred  the  scene  to  Auerbach's 
Keller  in  Leipzig,  which  was  familiar  to 
him  from  his  happy  student-days.  Old  sea- 
captains  and  blue-jackets  cannot  resist  the 
temptations  of  "The  Anchor"  even  if  the 
signboard  does  not  invite  them  so  charmingly 
as  the  one  of  "  The  Three  Jolly  Sailors  "  in 
Castleford :  — 

"  Coil  up  your  ropes  and  anchor  here 
Till  better  weather  does  appear.0 

The  shoemakers  most  naturally  decorated 
their  guild-house  with  a  beautiful  big  boot, 
a  word  closely  related  to  the  old  French 
"botte,"  a  large  drinking  cup,  and  its  dimin- 
utive "  bouteille,"  the  origin  of  the  Eng- 
lish "  bottle."  The  butchers  seldom  show 
the  cruel  axe,  far  oftener  the  poetical  lamb, 
their  oldest  sign  being  the  Pascal  lamb  hold- 
ing the  little  flag  of  the  resurrection.  A 
patriotic  English  landlord  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Bath  changed  the  flag  into  a  Union 
Jack,  forgetting  all  about  the  religious  mean- 
ing of  the  sign  as  it  still  appears  in  a  French 
relief  "  L'Agneau  Pascal "  in  Caen,  Rue  de 

85 


Bayeux.  The  tavern  "  Zum  guldin  Schooffe " 
in  Strassburg,  "la  vieille  ville  allemande" 
as  Victor  Hugo  called  the  city  quite  frankly, 
is  perhaps  the  oldest  sign  of  this  group.  It 
dates  back  to  the  year  1311  at  least.  An- 
other butcher  sign  is  the  ox  or  bull,  most 
popular,  of  course,  in  the  land  of  John  Bull, 
where  the  bull  appears  in  the  most  surprising 
combinations  as  "  Bull  and  Bell,"  "  Bull  and 
Magpie/'  "  Bull  and  Stirrup,"  and  the  like. 
The  tavern  signs  of  the  bakers,  "The 
Crown,"  "The  Sun,"  or  "The  Star,"  lead 
us  back  to  old  pagan  times  in  which  the 
cakes  offered  as  sacrifice  to  the  gods  were 
shaped  in  the  same  curious  forms  which  we 
observe  to-day  in  our  various  breakfast  rolls. 
Christian  legends  of  the  holy  three  kings 
and  the  star  that  stood  over  the  stable  in 
Bethlehem  effaced  these  pagan  souvenirs. 
On  the  day  of  Epiphany  especially  beautiful 
crowns  were  baked ;  in  France  the  bakers 
still  follow  the  old  tradition  and  offer  such 
a  crown  to  each  of  their  customers  as  a 
present,  not  without  hiding  a  tiny  porcelain 
shoe  in  the  dough.  The  happy  finder  of  this 
shoe  becomes  the  king  of  the  company. 
Dutch  masters  have  represented  the  merry 

86 


family  scene  of  the  Epiphany  dinner,  none 
perhaps  so  convincingly  as  Jordaens  in  the 
famous  picture,  "  The  King  Drinks/'  in  the 
great  gallery  of  the  Louvre. 

"The  Star"  has  always  been  one  of  the 
most  popular  signs,  its  gentle  glow  seemed 
to  promise  the  traveler  on  the  dark  road  a 
friendly  resting-place  after  the  long,  weary 
day.  Sometimes  the  modern  owner  of  such 
a  venerable  old  star-inn  promises  even  more 
and  advertises  his  place,  in  slangy  rhyme,  as 
the  landlord  of"  The  Star"  in  York. 

"  Here  at  the  sign  of  Ye  Old  Starre 

You  may  sup  and  smoke  at  your  ease 
Tip-Top  cigars,  port  above  par, 
A  Host  ever  ready  to  please." 

Beside  "The  Star"  and  "The  Golden 
Sun,"  where  you  drink  "the  best  beer  under 
the  sun,"  we  find  "The  Moon,"  especially 
"  The  Half-Moon,"  as  great  favorites  of  the 
people.  The  naval  victory  of  1571  at  Le- 
panto,  where  the  united  Christian  fleet  de- 
stroyed The  Turk,  — in  those  days  not  a  sick 
man,  but  rather  a  robust  and  aggressive  one, 
—  is  perhaps  the  cause  of  the  popularity  of 
the  half-moon.  The  Virgin  Mary,  to  whom 
the  pious  sailors  ascribed  the  victory,  was 

87 


often  represented  as  standing  on  a  half-moon, 
because  she  was  "  the  woman  clothed  with 
the  sun,  and  the  moon  under  her  feet,  and 
upon  her  head  a  crown  of  twelve  stars" 
whom  the  poet  of  the  Revelation  had  seen 
in  his  immortal  dreams.  Crowned  with  her 
diadem  of  stars  she  was  dear  to  the  seamen, 
the  "stella  maris"  to  whom  they  lifted  their 
anguished  soul  in  prayer :  "  Ave  Maria,  navi- 
gantium  Stella,  quos  ad  portum  tranquillum 
vocata  conducis."  As  "light  of  the  world'' 
she  was  praised  in  the  old  "dialogus  con- 
solatorius  "  where  the  sinner  humbly  begs 
her:  — 

"  Festina  miseris  misereri,  virgo  beata ! 
Virgo  Maria  pia  splendens  orbisque  lucerna 
Per  tua  presidia  nos  due  ad  regna  beata !  " 

But  it  is  not  the  half-moon,  lying  hori- 
zontally as  a  silver  bowl  in  the  Christian 
presentation  of  the  heavenly  queen,  which 
we  find  on  the  tavern  sign,  but  always  the 
standing  crescent  of  the  Turkish  flag,  and 
we  are  glad  of  it.  If  we  study  the  life  in 
these  half-moon  taverns  at  the  hand  of 
Teniers  pictures  and  etchings,  we  find  very 
little  that  is  Christian  and  worthy  of  the 
sacred  symbol  of  the  Revelation. 

88 


anb 

Still  more  popular  than  the  stars  of  heaven 
is  the  animal  world  on  the  tavern  sign.  The 
ark  of  Noah  itself  and  all  it  contained,  every 
creeping  and  flying  thing,  was  welcome  over 
the  tavern  door  in  those  days  when  men  and 
beast,  often  living  under  the  same  roof,  as 
in  the  divine  inn  of  Bethlehem,  were  nearer 
to  each  other  than  they  are  now.  Nothing 
less  than  a  tavern  zoology  could  give  a  com- 
plete enumeration,  which  we  prefer  to  avoid. 


We  will  choose  only  a  few  which  were 
especially  dear  to  the  people.  First  of  all, 
naturally,  the  house  companions,  —  the  cat, 
"Le  Chat  qui  dort"  which  found  a  quiet 
resting-place  for  her  old  days  in  the  Musee 
Carnavalet  in  Paris ;  the  dog,  popular  in 
sport-loving  England ;  the  ox  and  the  don- 
key, even  an  elegant  mule  we  find  in  the 
"  Auberge  de  la  Mule  "  at  Avignon,  praised 
by  Abraham  Golnitz,  the  Baedeker  of  the 

89 


seventeenth  century,  as  a  "  logement  elegant 
et  agreable."  We  have  already  met  the  cock 
in  Rome  of  old,  on  the  Forum,  in  Holland 
we  see  him  occasionally  as  a  cavalier  in  high 
boots.  The  dove,  the  symbol  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  decorates  the  "Gasthauser  zum  Geiste" 
one  of  which  stood  in  the  old  Strassburg  and 
saw  the  remarkable  interview  between  the 
young  Goethe  and  the  poet  Herder.  Finally 
the  stork,  the  true  sign  of  German  "  Gemut- 
lichkeit" ;  the  one  in  Basel  was  honored  by 
the  visit  of  Victor  Hugo  :  "  Je  me  suis  loge 
a  la  Cigogne,  et  de  la  fenetre  ou  je  vous 
ecris,  je  vois  dans  une  petite  place  deux  jolies 
fontaines  cote  a  cote,  Tune  du  quinzieme 
siecle,  1'autre  du  seizieme." 

To  the  Philistine  the  strange  animals  of 
foreign  distant  lands  had  a  greater  attraction 
still.  In  every  modern  "zoo"  you  will  al- 
ways find  a  larger  public  before  the  monkey 
house  than  before  the  cage  of  the  lion  or 
even  the  elephant,  whose  dignity  and  wis- 
dom find  fewer  admirers  than  does  the  fool- 
ishness of  the  apes.  Early  in  the  Middle 
Ages  we  find  this  most  curious  of  strange 
animals  on  the  tavern  signs.  "  L'Ostel  des 
Singes,"  sometimes  called  "  The  Green 

00 


Monkeys,"  in  Senlis,  France,  is  first  men- 
tioned in  the  year  1359.  Our  "Affenwa- 
gen  "  is  a  Swiss  sign,  artfully  carved  in  wood, 
and  dates  from  the  Renaissance  times,  as 


does  the  inn  "Zum  RohrafF"  in  Strassburg, 
often  referred  to  in  the  sermons  of  Geiler 
von  Kaisersberg. 

When  the  first  dromedary  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  Germany,  a  circular  containing  a 
primitive  woodcut  invited  old  and  young  to 
see  "the  curious  animal  called  Romdarius." 

91 


Fifty  miles  it  could  run  in  one  day  in  the 
sand  sea  —  i.e.,  desert  —  the  text  said,  and 
in  summer  it  could  live  three  months  with- 
out drinking  "  ohne  sauffen."  This  last- 
mentioned  quality  seemed  to  predestine  the 
animal  to  a  temperance  sign,  but  fortunately 
the  description  added,  "when  it  drinks  it 
drinks  much  at  one  time,"  and  so  the  tavern- 
keepers  did  not  hesitate  to  adopt  it  as  a  tavern 
sign.  As  an  example  we  might  quote  the  inn 
"Zum  Kameeltier"  in  Strassburg.  Some- 
what later,  in  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  "The  Crocodile"  appears  over  the 
tavern  door  in  Antwerp,  and  this  reminds 
us  of  the  stuffed  animals  in  the  pharmacy 
described  by  Shakespeare  in  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet":- 

"  And  in  his  needy  shop  a  tortoise  hung, 
An  alligator  stuff'd,  and  other  skins 
Of  ill-shap'd  fishes." 

The  zebra  seems  to  have  been  known  quite 
early  if  we  are  allowed  to  take  "  The  Striped 
Donkey"  as  such.  In  the  inn  "  L'Ane  raye  " 
at  Rheims,  the  father  of  Joan  of  Arc  is  re- 
ported to  have  lodged  when  he  came  to  see 
the  coronation  in  1429.  One  of  the  last 
comers  of  the  curious  and  rare  animals  was 

92 


anb 

the  giraffe ;  it  appeared  in  Paris  for  the  first 
time  in  1827,  and  was  immediately  adopted 
as  a  tavern  sign  by  a  host  in  fitampes,  near 
the  capital.  The  "enseigne"  represented  "le 
dit  animal  conduit  par  un  Bedouin. " 

But  the  most  curious  animals  of  creation 
did  not  suffice.  The  imagination  of  the  peo- 
ple created  others  still  more  strange  and  the 
landlords  put  these  fabulous  beasts  on  their 
signs  too :  the  unicorn,  the  dragon,  the 
siren.  "The  Siren"  tavern  in  Lyons  at  the 
time  of  the  Renaissance  was  evidently  a  very 
attractive  place  which  the  traveler  found 
very  hard  to  leave  again,  because,  as  a  con- 
temporary tells  us, "  il  s'y  trouve  des  Sirenes." 
In  later  days,  when  the  popular  stories  were 
forgotten,  the  sirens  were  changed  to  "  Six 
Reines,"  the  six  queens.  In  another  chapter 
we  shall  see  how  Keats  in  his  poem,  The 
Mermaid,  has  celebrated  one  of  these  old 
Siren  taverns. 

How  deeply  rooted  in  the  old  days  was  this 
belief  in  "  Morwonder  "  or  ill-shaped  fishes 
and  malformations  of  the  human  figure  will 
appear  at  a  glance  in  SchedePs  "Welt  Chro- 
nik"  printed  by  Koberger  in  Nuremberg  in 
1493,  where  we  see  them  in  strange  woodcuts 

93 


before  us:  the  man  with  ears  hanging  to  the 
ground  and  other  misshaped  creatures. 

The  same  source  of  popular  imagination 
created  "Le  Geant,"  the  sign  "Zu  den  Sla- 
raffen"  in  Strassburg,  1435,  and  the  sign  of 
"The  Little  and  the  Great  Sleeper"  that 
during  three  centuries,  from  1400  to  1705, 
invited  the  citizens  of  the  Alsatian  capital  to 
cross  its  hospitable  threshold.  A  charming 
picture,  "The  Sleeping  Giant  of  the  Woods" 
by  Lukas  Kranach,  in  Dresden's  famous  Gal- 
lery, will  help  us  to  imagine  how  the  big 
sleeper  probably  looked.  Is  it  the  famous 
"Wild  Man"  or  "Le  Grand  Hercule"  who 
sleeps  here  in  the  shadow  of  the  forest?  One 
thing  is  sure,  he  has  been  drinking  deeply 
and  is  dead  asleep;  nothing  can  wake  him 
up,  not  even  this  little  army  of  dwarfs  around 
him  who  attack  him  with  lances  and  arrows, 
nay,  even  try  to  saw  into  his  strong  limbs. 

Since  the  days  of  the  "  Roman  du  Renard," 
the  first  version  of  which  dates  back  to  the 
eleventh  century,  to  the  days  of  Goethe's 
"Reineke  Fuchs,"  shrewd  master  Fox  was 
a  favorite  of  the  people.  In  old  miniatures 
we  encounter  him  as  a  monk,  his  pointed 
nose  buried  in  a  prayer-book.  His  exploits 


most  naturally  form  good  themes  for  the 
tavern  sign.  Dancing  before  a  hen  to  seduce 
the  foolish  creature  by  his  graceful  charms, 
he  was  represented  on  an  old  French  sign 
in  Le  Mans:  "Renard  dansant  devant  une 
poule."  Preaching  to  ducks,  "  Wo  der  Fuchs 
den  Enten  predigt"  is  the  name  of  a  Strass- 
burg  tavern,  which  dates  only  from  1848. 
His  shrewdness  before  the  royal  tribunal  of 
the  lion  was  well  known;  Montaigne,  there- 
fore, warns  the  tavern-keepers  who  desire 
the  patronage  of  advocates  against  painting 
him  on  the  signboard :  "  qui  veut  avoir  la 
clientele  des  procureurs  ne  doit  point  mettre 
renard  sur  son  enseigne." 

Other  animals  appealed  more  to  the  culi- 
nary instincts  of  the  passer-by,  among  them 
the  swan,  "1'oiseau  de  bon  augure,"  which 
we  do  not  like  to  see  turned  into  roasts.  But 
in  Chaucer's  times  it  was  evidently  considered 
a  fine  dish,  since  he  lets  the  monk  in  his 
"  Canterbury  Tales  "  say :  "  A  fat  swan  loved 
he  best  of  any  rost.' '  A  picture  by  David  Ten- 
iers  in  The  Hague,  called  "The  Kitchen/' 
shows  how  the  bird  was  served  in  his  natural 
glory,  a  crown  of  flowers  on  his  proud  head. 
This  custom  to  serve  fowl  in  full  plumage  is 

95 


proved  by  Montaigne's  description  of  a  din- 
ner in  Rome:  "On  y  servit  force  volaille 
rotie,  revetue  de  sa  plume  naturelle  comme 
vifve  .  .  .  oiseausvifs  (enplumes)  en  paste." 
To  this  group  belongs  the  peacock,  in  the 
old  days  the  official  roast  for  marriage  feasts. 
Its  picture  on  the  signboard  promised  large 
accommodations  for  people  who  wanted  to 
celebrate  marriages  in  true  style.  "  Le  Paon 
blanc"  in  Paris,  Rue  de  la  Mortelleric,  now 
a  rather  shady  region,  was  once  a  noble  inn. 
Shortly  after  his  marriage,  Rembrandt  painted 
the  famous  picture  in  Dresden,  where  he  rep- 
resents himself,  a  glass  of  champagne  in  hand, 
happily  holding  his  beloved  Saskia  on  his 
knees.  The  richly  decorated  table  in  the 
background  still  carries  the  peacock  of 
the  marriage  feast.  Of  "The  Pheasant"  in 
Worms,  before  the  days  of  gas  and  elec- 
tricity, Victor  Hugo  has  given  us  this  amus- 
ing picture:  "  J'etais  installe  dans  1'auberge 
du  Faisan,  qui,  je  dois  le  dire,  avait  le  meil- 
leur  aspect  du  monde.  Je  mangeais  un  excel- 
lent souper  dans  une  salle  meublee  d'une 
longue  table  et  de  deux  hommes  occupes  a 
deux  pipes.  Malheureusement  la  salle  a  man- 
ger etait  peu  eclairee,  ce  qui  m'attrista.  En 

96 


anb 

y  entrant  on  n'ape^evait  qu'une  chandelle 
dans  un  nuage.  Les  deux  hommes  dega- 
geaient  plus  de  fumee  que  dix  heros." 

Sometimes  a  living  bird  served  originally 
as  a  sign.  The  parrot  of  the  pharmacy,  "  Au 
Perroquet  Vert,"  in  Lyons,  was  a  real  bird, 
which  had  learned  even  some  Latin  phrases, 
as  "ora  pro  nobis,"  from  the  passing  proces- 
sions, and  naturally  attracted  many  people  by 
its  wisdom.  He  belonged  to  the  living  signs 
to  which  Balzac  refers  in  "Les  scenes  de  la  vie 
privee":  "Les  animaux  en  cage  dont  1'a- 
dresse  emerveillait  les  passants."  Sometimes 
the  cage  itself  was  adopted  as  a  tavern  sign 
and  in  Lyons  a  street  was  named  "  Rue  de 
la  Cage"  for  a  public-house  of  this  name. 
A  charming  little  French  rhyme  from  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  intro- 
duces us  to  such  a  cage-tavern  :- 

u  Mademoiselle  Louizon 
Demeurant  cher  Alizon 
Justement  au  cinquieme  etage 
Pres  du  cabaret  de  la  Cage." 

Not  only  bird-cages  and  their  musical  or 
scholarly  inhabitants,  but  any  remarkable 
object  that  happened  to  stand  before  the  tav- 
ern was  readily  interpreted  by  the  people 

97 


as  a  sign.  In  the  little  English  town  of 
Grantham,  where  we  had  already  the  oppor- 
tunity of  admiring  the  noble  "Angel  Inn," 
we  saw  in  a  tree  before  a  modest  tavern  a 
beehive  with  this  inscription  on  a  board  be- 
neath it:  — 

"  Stop,  traveller,  this  wondrous  sign  explore, 
And  say  when  thou  hast  viewed  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
Grantham  now  two  rarities  are  thine, 
A  lofty  steeple  and  a  living  sign." 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  lofty  tower  of  St.  Wul- 
fram  seemed  to  us  the  only  remarkable  "  rar- 
ity "  of  the  two,  the  more  so  aS:the  church 
was  beautifully  decorated  for  Thanksgiving 
Day  with  flowers  and  the  fruits  of  the  field, 
not  to  mention  its  unique  little  library  with 
the  chained  old  books. 

We  may  infer  the  great  popularity  of  signs 
by  the  ceremonious  way  in  which  they  were 
changed  when  a  guild  removed  to  other 
quarters.  The  sign  was  carried  in  solemn 
procession  to  the  new  inn  and  hung  up  with 
blasts  of  trumpets.  The  Swabian  poet  Morike 
has  tried  to  express  the  melancholy  emotions 
of  the  old  landlord  when  he  sees  the  sign 
changed  and  finds  it  hard  to  recognize  his 
old  inn :  — 

98 


anb  Q 

u  Where  is  the  golden  lamb  of  yore 
So  dear  to  my  old  guests  ? 
I  see  a  cock  with  reddish  breast 
Pecked  it  away  from  the  door." 

An  English  author  even  tells  us  about  the  bur- 
ial of  a  sign,  which,  he  says,  was  not  an  unus- 
ual affair  in  Cumberland.  We  give  the  story  in 
his  own  words:  "It  is  a  function  always  ob- 
served when  an  inn  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Lady  Carlisle's  estate  at  Naworth  has  lost  its 
license.  The  inn  sign  is  solemnly  removed, 
and  in  the  dead  of  night  is  committed  to  the 
grave,  in  the  presence  of  the  old  customers  of 
the  inn.  As  a  rule  it  is  '  watered '  with  tears 
in  the  shape  of  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  and  the 
burial  sentence  runs  as  follows:  — 

"  '  Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust, 
If  Lady  Carlisle  won't  have  you 
The  Devil  must.'  " 

But  we  shall  not  end  our  chapter  with  this 
story  of  rather  doubtful  taste.  If  we  review 
the  wealth  of  popular  signs,  which  we  have 
in  no  way  exhausted,  we  may  well  say  that 
everything  on  earth  may  be  adopted  by  the 
people  as  a  sign,  from  the  cradle  in  which  we 
dream  our  first  dreams  to  the  cross  that  some 
day  will  stand  over  our  "last  inn  "  as  a  pious 

99 


and  scholarly  man  has  called  our  grave.  In 
the  beautiful  churchyard  that  enfolds  in  its 
greenery  England's  oldest  existing  church, 
St.  Martin  in  Canterbury,  we  read  on  the 
tombstone  of  Dean  Alford  the  simple  words : 
"  Deversorium  Viatoris  Hierosolymam  Pro- 
ficiscentis,"  last  inn  of  a  pilgrim  to  the  heav- 
enly Jerusalem. 


EAGLE-  AND  •  CHILD-IN-LONDON 


CHAPTER    V 

TRAVELING   WITH 

SHAKESPEARE   AND    MONTAIGNE 


j£eonflerg, 


CHAPTER   V 

TRAVELING    WITH    SHAKESPEARE    AND 
MONTAIGNE 

"  Let  us  to  the  Tiger  all  to  dinner  ! " 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

LITTLE  William,  already  in  the  days  when 
he  went  "  with  his  satchel  and  shining  morn- 
ing face  creeping  like  a  snail  unwillingly  to 
school,'*  had  ample  leisure  and  opportunity 
to  gaze  admiringly  at  the  many  signs  which 
adorned  the  narrow  streets  of  the  quiet  little 
town  on  the  Avon.  The  memory  of  them  still 
lives  in  some  of  the  Stratford  hotels.  The 
landlady  of  the  "  Golden  Lion/'  for  instance, 
remarks  on  her  bill :  "  Known  as  Ye  Pea- 
cocke  Inn  in  Shakespeare's  time  1613."  Even 
the  "  Red  Horse,"  to-day  extremely  modern 
and  uninteresting-looking,  goes  back  to  these 
old  days.  In  Washington  Irving's  time  the 
place  probably  looked  more  quaint  and  cozy, 
if  we  may  believe  his  praise  of  the  old  inn  in 
his  "  Sketch-Book  "  :  "  To  a  homeless  man, 
there  is  a  momentary  feeling  of  something  like 
independence  and  territorial  consequence, 

103 


when,  after  a  weary  day's  travel,  he  kicks  off 
his  boots,  thrusts  his  feet  into  slippers,  and 
stretches  himself  before  an  inn  fire." 

This  picture  gallery  of  the  street  signs  was 
still  more  magnificent  in  London,  where 
even  the  theaters  had  their  signs  out,  as  "  The 
Globe,"  "  Red  Bull,"  «  A  Curtain,"  "  A  For- 
tune," "Cross  Keys,"  "  The  Phenix,"  "  The 
Rose,"  "  The  Cockpit,"  and  we  may  be  sure 
that  they  made  quite  an  impression  on  the 
lively  mind  of  the  young  actor.  The  word 
"  sign  "  occurs  frequently  in  his  vocabulary. 
Inclined  to  see  below  the  surface,  he  does  not 
seem  to  trust  the  glittering  of  the  sign,  as  the 
words  of  lago  indicate :  - 

"  I  must  show  out  a  flag  and  sign  of  love, 
Which  is  indeed  but  sign." 

The  signs  of  his  birthplace  were  probably 
rather  poor-looking  things,  since  he  uses  the 
word  in  his  early  drama,  "  Titus  Androni- 
cus,"  contemptuously  :- 

"  Ye  sanguine,  shallow-hearted  boys  ! 
Ye  white-lim'd  walls  !  ye  ale-house  painted  signs  ! " 

The  sign  of  the  "Falcon"  was  not  yet 
hung  out  on  the  old  house  of  Scholar's  Lane 
and  Chapel  Street  in  those  years  of  1571  to 

104 


anb 

1578,  when  little  Shakespeare  went  to  the 
Grammar  School,  in  which  the  traveler  to 
this  day  may  see  the  chair  of  the  pedagogue 
who  first  introduced  him  to  the  secrets  of 


THE-FALCON 
IN-CHESTER 


literature.  But  the  circle  of  life  led  him  back 
to  the  same  narrow  street,  and  opposite  the 
stately  building,  which  now  is  the  "  Falcon," 
Shakespeare  died.  The  mortuary  house  has 
disappeared  and  the  ground  has  been  trans- 
formed into  a  garden.  Here  we  are  infinitely 
nearer  to  the  poet's  soul  than  in  the  tiny 
birth-chamber  disfigured  by  a  huge  bust, 
where  the  guide  drowns  all  our  thoughts  in 

105 


a  flood  of  empty  words.  Here  in  this  garden 
the  genius  of  the  poet  seemed  to  reveal  him- 
self most  charmingly.  Where  once  the  house 
stood  in  which  he  died  we  found  a  little 
child  peacefully  sleeping — all  alone,  un- 
guarded, but  the  gentle  rose  of  youth  bloom- 
ing on  his  cheeks  —  under  the  perfumed 
shadow  of  flowers;  a  symbol  of  eternal  life 
conquering  death. 

If  we  enter  the  "Falcon,"  Shakespeare's 
words  greet  us  from  the  wall:  "  Good  wine 
is  a  good  familiar  creature  if  it  be  well  used, 
exclaim  no  more  against  it."  The  gentle  in- 
vitation of  the  blinking  sign  to  enter  and  to 
share  joy  and  sorrow  with  friendly  comrades, 
Shakespeare  himself  has  often  followed.  A 
French  critic,  Mezieres,  went  so  far  as  to  call 
him  "un  habitue  de  la  taverne,"  politely  add- 
ing that  "  he  never  lost  his  self-control  and 
never  contended  himself  with  the  light  joys 
of  the  flying  hour." 

The  "Red  Lion"  in  Henley-on-the- 
Thames  once  owned  a  window  pane  —  re- 
cently by  mistake  packed  in  the  trunk  of  a 
confused  traveler  —  into  which  Shenstone 
scratched  the  much-quoted  words :  - 


106 


anb  (ttlonfoigne 

u  Whoe'er  has  traveled  life's  dull  round, 
Where'er  his  stages  may  have  been, 
May  sigh  to  think  he  still  has  found 
The  warmest  welcome  at  an  inn." 

They  are  of  true  Shakespearean  spirit  and 
remind  us  of  Speed's  words  in  the  "Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona  "  (n,  v) :  — 

"  I  '11  to  the  alehouse  with  you  presently,  where,  for 
one  shot  of  five  pence,  thou  shalt  have  five  thousand  wel- 
comes." 

It  would  seem  hardly  necessary  further  to 
urge  such  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  the  tavern, 
but  Launce  thought  differently. 

Launce.  If  thou  wilt  go  with  me  to  the  alehouse,  so  ; 
if  not,  thou  art  an  Hebrew,  a  Jew,  and  not  worth  the 
name  of  a  Christian. 

Speed.   Why? 

Launce.  Because  thou  hast  not  so  much  charity  in  thec 
as  to  go  to  the  ale  with  a  Christian. 

We  are  not  surprised  to  hear  the  final 
question,  "Wilt  thou  go?"  promptly  an- 
swered, "  At  thy  service." 

Most  of  the  tavern  names  Shakespeare 
mentions  are  true  products  of  the  Renais- 
sance times  when  classical  studies  were  ex- 
tremely popular.  "The  Centaur,"  "The 
Phenix,"  "The  Pomegranate,"  —  an  orna- 
ment we  find  so  often  in  the  brocades  of  the 

107 


sixteenth  century,  — all  are  signs  of  his  own 
time,  simply  transplanted  from  London  he 
knew  so  well  to  Genoa  or  Ephesus,  places  he 
had  never  put  his  eye  on.  "The  Pegasus," 
by  the  man  in  the  street  called  "The  Flying 
Horse/'  decorated  still  in  the  year  1691 
the  house  of  a  jeweler  and  banker  in  Lom- 
bard Street.  In  passing,  we  may  remark  that 
all  the  signs  which  to-day  surprise  the  trav- 
eler in  this  busy  street  are  more  or  less  happy 
reproductions  of  the  old  signs,  hung  out 
there  by  the  great  banking  firms  for  King 
Edward's  coronation. 

In  our  wanderings  through  England  we 
occasionally  cross  the  path  Shakespeare  went 
with  his  company  of  actors.  The  court  in 
the  "  George  Inn  J>  in  Salisbury,  to-day  trans- 
formed into  a  pleasant  little  garden,  was  once 
the  scene  where  the  "Strolling  Players  "  of 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  used 
to  give  their  performances,  and  here  Shake- 
speare himself  acted  when  he  visited  Salis- 
bury. A  police  ordinance  allowed  only  in 
the"  George "  theatrical  amusements,  and 
demanded  that  all  plays  should  be  ended  by 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening.  This  George 
Hotel  was  first  mentioned  in  1401  as 

108 


anb 

"  Georgysyn."  Oliver  Cromwell  slept  here 
October  17,  1645,  on  his  way  to  the  army. 
The  old  beams  which  carry  the  ceiling  of 
the  parlor,  and  which  a  shrewd  landlord  has 
discovered  in  other  rooms  and  freed  from  the 
hiding  plaster,  are  the  delight  of  American 
travelers,  who  refuse  to  sleep  in  rooms  without 
beams.  In  the  days  of  Pepys  it  was  an  elegant 
hostelry.  In  his  "  Diary/'  in  which  he  praises 
Salisbury  as  "a  very  brave  place/'  he  puts 
down  the  following  remarks  :  "  Come  to  the 
George  Inn  where  lay  in  a  silk  bed,  and  very 
good  diet/'  Less  pleased  he  was  with  the  bill, 
which  he  thought  "so  exorbitant  that  I 
was  mad  and  resolved  to  truble  the  mistress 
about  it  and  get  something  for  the  poor ;  and 
came  away  in  that  humour."  TheVesult  of 
his  protest  was  not  great.  After  paying  £2 
$s.  6d.  for  the  night  he  gains  just  two  shil- 
lings for  the  poor  (one  for  "  an  old  woman 
in  the  street").  Similar  privileges  for  theat- 
rical performances  had  the  "Red  Lion"  in 
Boston,  the  little  English  mother  of  her 
big  American  daughter,  and  the  "  Mayde's 
Hede"  in  Norwich.  The  closed  space  of 
these  old  innyards,  with  its  staircases  leading 
to  the  surrounding  gallery,  was  thoroughly 

109 


fitted  for  the  theatrical  representations,  and 
it  is  quite  possible  that  this  gallery  of  the 
innyard  influenced  the  architecture  of  the 
later  theaters.  Few  of  these  innyards  have 
survived,  unfortunately,  but  we  have  still  a 
wonderful  example  in  the  charming  court  of 
the  so-called  "New  Inn"  in  Gloucester.  It 
was  new  in  the  fifteenth  century.  How  en- 
chanting a  Shakespeare  play  would  be  in  the 
frame  of  its  verdure  ! 

In  the  First  Part  of  "Henry  IV,"  the  poet 
himself  has  introduced  us  into  such  an  inn- 
yard.  It  is  very  early  morning  and  every- 
thing still  dark.  Carters  come  to  look  after 
their  goods  and  to  harness  their  horses,  ex- 
changing remarks  in  plain  language:  "I 
think  this  be  the  most  villanous  house  in  all 
London  road  for  fleas";  or,  "God's  body! 
the  turkeys  in  my  pannier  are  quite  starved. 
What,  ostler!  A  plague  on  thee!  hast  thou 
never  an  eye  in  thy  head  ?"  —  a  master  scene 
of  realistic  observation  in  the  style  Lessing 
and  Goethe  admired  so  much,  and  Voltaire 
hated  so  that  he  proclaimed  :  "  Shakespeare 
was  a  remarkable  genius,  but  he  had  no  taste, 
since  for  two  hundred  years  he  has  spoiled 
the  taste  of  the  English  nation." 

no 


anb 

How  important  the  spacious  enclosure  of 
the  innyard  was  for  the  farmers  coming  to 
town  with  their  loaded  wagons  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  still  to-day  many  a  hotel  in 
Germany  is  simply  called  "Hof"  (court) 
or  "Gasthof";  as,  for  example:  "  Koelner 
Hof,"  "Rheinischer  Hof,"  "Habsburger 
Hof,"  even  "Kaiserhof,"  sumptuous  mod- 
ern structures,  perhaps,  which  have  only  a 
narrow  lighting  shaft  in  the  center  of  the 
building  and  nothing  of  the  large  and  airy 
courtyards  of  the  good  old  times. 

Many  of  the  tavern  names  Shakespeare 
mentions  in  his  plays  we  know  from  other 
sources  as  signs  that  actually  decorated  the 
streets  of  London.  "  Leopard  "  and  "  Tiger  " 
were  infrequent,  but  we  hear  of  a  "  Leopard 
Tavern  "  in  Chancery  Lane,  which  still  ex- 
isted in  1665.  The  popular  pronunciation 
was  "lubber,"  and  in  this  form  we  find  the 
beast  quoted  in  "  Henry  IV "  (Part  II,  n,  i), 
where  it  is  said  of  FalstafF:  "  He  is  indited 
to  dinner  to  the  Lubber's-head  in  Lumbert 
street,  to  Master  Smooth's  the  silk-man/' 
Such  curious  distortions  of  strange  words  are 
nothing  uncommon  in  popular  language; 
we  have  only  to  remember  how  the  old 

ill 


Yankee  farmers  used  to  call  the  panther  by 
the  gentle  name  "  painter."  Another  of  Fal- 
staff's  favorite  resorts  was  "The  Half-Moon, " 
likewise  mentioned  in  "  Henry  IV"  (Part  I, 
n,  iv),  where  he  used  to  consume  countless 
"pints  of  bastard"  and  of  dark  Spanish 
wine.  "The  Tiger"  referred  to  in  the 
"Comedy  of  Errors"  (in,  i)  was,  too,  an 
actual  sign  of  the  times,  as  we  hear  of  a 
"Golden  Tiger"  in  Pilgrim  Street,  New- 
castle. On  the  other  hand,  the  name  of  the 
"Porcupine,"  which  occurs  in  the  same  play, 
is  probably  invented  as  a  characteristic  sign 
for  a  place  of  ill-fame. 

The  most  renowned  of  all  the  Falstaffinns 
is  doubtless  "The  Garter,"  his  real  home, 
so  vividly  described  in  the  "  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor":  "There's  his  chamber,  his 
house,  his  castle,  his  standing-bed  and  truckle- 
bed  ;  't  is  painted  about  with  the  story  of  the 
Prodigal,  fresh  and  new."  These  few  words 
give  us  an  exact  picture  how  a  sleeping-room 
in  an  inn  looked  in  his  time.  The  truckle- 
bed,  it  seems,  was  put  under  the  standing 
bed  and  was  used  by  the  servant,  if  we  in- 
terpret rightly  the  old  rhyme  on  a  "  servile 
tutor  " :  - 

112 


(ttlonfai^ne 

u  He  lieth  in  the  truckle-bed, 
While  his  young  master  lieth  o'er  his  head." 

Even  the  wall  paintings,  as  Shakespeare  de- 
scribes them,  are  not  invention.  In  the  six- 
teenth century  people  loved  to  paint  the  story 
of  the  lost  son  on  the  walls  of  the  tavern 
room,  just  as  in  the  fifteenth  century  they 
pinned  up  little  primitive  woodcuts  repre- 
senting St.  Christopher.  Later  we  shall  see 
a  painter  of  talent  like  Hogarth  not  despise 
the  decoration  of  taverns  as  below  his  genius 
and  embellish  with  works  of  his  brush  the 
"Elephant  Tavern"  in  Fenchurch  Street, 
where  he  stayed  for  a  time. 

The  name  "  Garter  Inn,"  pronounced  "  de 
Jarterre"  by  Doctor  Caius,  is  historical,  too. 
Later,  in  the  times  of  Charles  I,  who  added 
the  star  to  the  insignia  of  the  order  founded 
by  Edward  III  in  i  3  50,  the  "  Star  and  Garter  " 
appeared. 

A  true  Renaissance  sign  we  find  again 
in  the  "Sagittary,"  cursorily  mentioned  in 
"Othello"  (i,  i).  The  archer,  the  ninth 
sign  of  the  Zodiac,  was  very  familiar  to  the 
people  from  the  old  calendar  woodcuts. 
Italian  prints,  as  the  beautifully  illustrated 
"Fasciculus  medicine"  (Venice,  1500),  rep- 

113 


resent  him  in  classical  fashion  as  an  elegant 
centaur,  very  unlike  the  little  philistine  with 
round  belly,  such  as  he  appears  in  the  earlier 
"teutsch  kalender"  of  Ulm,  1498.  The 
common  people  did  not  call  him  "  Sagitta- 
rius/' but  "bowman"  (Schiitze).  There  is 
good  historical  evidence  of  a  "  Bowman 
Tavern  "  in  Drury  Lane,  London.  It  is  natu- 
ral that  Shakespeare,  a  true  son  of  the  Re- 
naissance, should  call  him  with  the  classical 
name,  just  as  the  first  German  composer  of 
operas  changed  his  good  German  name 
"  Schiitze  "  to  the  more  pretentious  form 
of  "  Sagittarius/' 

In  these  "  Bowman  Taverns  "  the  guilds 
of  the  archers  used  to  come  together  ;  as, 
for  instance,  in  the  "  Hotel  de  PArquebuse  " 
in  Geneva,  where  the  Swiss  archers  had  their 
joyous  reunions  after  they  had  finished  their 
outdoor  sport  to  shoot  the  "papegex"  (the 
parrot).  Here  the  king  of  the  archers  who 
had  done  the  master  shot  "sans  reproche" 
and  "sans  tricherie"  (without  cheating),  was 
celebrated  in  poetical  speeches,  according  to 
the  customs  of  the  times :  — 

"  Je  boy  a  vous,  a  votre  amye, 
Et  a  toute  la  compaignie  !  " 


anb 

The  most  famous  of  all  Shakespearean 
tavern  signs  is  perhaps  the  "  Boar's  Head/' 
Washington  Irving  has  told  us  in  his  re- 
search, "the  boar's  head  tavern,  Eastcheap" 
about  his  investigations  on  this  important 
matter.  "  I  sought,  in  vain,  for  the  ancient 


THE-OLD-BLUE-BOARrlN-LINCOLN- 

abode  of  Dame  Quickjy.  The  only  relic  of 
it  is  a  boar's  head,  carved  in  relief  in  stone, 
which  formerly  served  as  a  sign ;  but  at 
present  [Irving's  ' Sketch-Book'  dates  from 
1820]  is  built  into  the  parting  line  of  two 
houses,  which  stand  on  the  side  of  the  re- 
nowned tavern."  To-day  the  relief,  black- 
ened by  age  and  curiously  looking  like  Jap- 
anese lacquer-work,  belongs  to  the  treasures 

115 


of  the  Guildhall  Museum  in  London.  The 
place  where  the  old  tavern  stood  is  marked 
by  the  statue  of  William  IV,  opposite  the 
Monument  Station  of  the  subway.  Merry 
souvenirs  of  good  old  England  are  suggested 
by  the  boar's  head,  which  used  to  be  served 
on  Christmas  Day  decorated  with  rosemary 
and  greeted  from  the  company  with  the 
half-Latin  song :  - 

"  Caput  apri  defero 
Reddens  laudes  Domino, 
The  boar's  head  in  hand  bring  I, 
With  garlands  gay  and  rosemary ; 
I  pray  you  all  synge  merrily, 
Qui  estis  in  convivio." 

It  will  be  a  great  disappointment  to  our 
readers  when  we  have  to  confess  that  the 
unlucky  fellows  called  literary  critics  have 
found  out  that  the  stage-direction,  "  East- 
cheap.  A  room  in  the  Boar's  Head  Tavern," 
is  not  Shakespeare's  own  remark,  since  we 
do  not  find  it  in  the  early  editions  of"  Henry 
IV."  Still  more  so  when  they  hear  that  the 
relief  in  Guildhall  bears  the  date  1668  and 
has  been  chiseled,  therefore,  fifty-two  years 
after  the  poet's  death.  A  little  consolation 
we  find  in  the  not  improbable  supposition 

116 


anb  (VHonfaijne 

that  it  is  a  copy  in  stone  from  the  original 
wooden  sign.  Did  not  the  famous  fire,  which 
raged  from  Pudding  Lane  to  Pye  Corner  in 
the  year  1666,  destroy  nearly  all  the  Shake- 
spearean London,  with  its  old-fashioned  frame 
houses  ?  For  greater  security  the  new  build- 
ings were  erected  in  stone  and  the  old  house 
emblems  and  carved  tavern  signs  reappeared, 
too,  in  more  substantial  form.  The  Guild- 
hall Museum  furnishes  quite  a  number  of 
examples:  "The  Anchor "  of  1669,  "The 
Bell"  of  1668,  "The  Spread  Eagle"  of 
1669,  and  others. 

And  now  let  us  follow  Heinrich  Heine  on 
his  voyage  to  Italy  and  hear  from  him  how 
in  his  days  the  noble  palace  of  the  Capulets, 
Julia's  paternal  home  in  Verona,  was  debased 
to  a  common  tavern.  Near  the  Piazza  dell 
Erbe  "  stands  a  house  which  the  people  iden- 
tify with  the  old  palace  of  the  Capulets  on 
account  of  a  cap  (in  Italian  'cappello ')  sculp- 
tured above  the  inner  archway.  It  is  now  a 
dirty  bar  for  carters  and  coachmen ;  a  red 
iron  hat,  full  of  holes,  hangs  out  as  a  tavern 
sign."  To-day  this  disgraceful  sign  has  dis- 
appeared and  a  marble  slab  consecrates  the 
popular  mytrj  as  historical  fact.  This  was 

117 


then  the  house  where  Romeo  for  the  first 
time  saw  his  lady  love :  — 

Romeo.  What  lady  's  that  which  doth  enrich  the  hand 
Of  yonder  knight  ? 

Servant.   I  know  not,  sir. 

Romeo.   O,  she  doth  teach  the  torches  to  burn  bright ! 
Her  beauty  hangs  upon  the  cheek  of  night 
Like  a  rich  jewel  in  an  Ethiop's  ear; 
Beauty  too  rich  for  use,  for  earth  too  dear ! 

Shakespeare's  geographical  knowledge 
seems  to  have  been  very  limited.  If  he 
could  have  gone,  as  the  citizen  of  Stratford 
to-day,  to  the  Carnegie  library,  how  many 
shocking  errors  he  had  avoided  !  Here  he 
could  have  learned  that  Bohemia  has  no  sea- 
coast,  that  Florence  is  not  a  port,  and  that 
the  forest  of  Arden  neither  hides  lions  nor 
contains  palms.  But  would  this  knowledge 
have  increased  his  poetical  feeling  and  his 
power  of  representation?  Hardly.  The  north- 
ern land  with  its  "sniping  winds/'  how  well 
it  is  characterized ;  how  simple  and  true  to 
life  his  description  of  the  mild  climate  of 
Sicily,  crowned  with  temples,  in  the  "  Win- 
ter's Tale"  (in,  i):- 

"  The  climate  's  delicate,  the  air  most  sweet, 
Fertile  the  isle ;  temple  much  surpassing 
The  common  praise  it  bears." 
118 


It  was  not  yet  the  fashion  to  flee  the  winter 
and  try  to  find  eternal  spring  in  the  South. 
Every  season  is  welcome  to  the  poet  who 
loves  the  peculiar  charm  of  each  one,  as  he 
says  in  "Love's  Labor's  Lost"  (i,  i)  :- 

u  At  Christmas  I  no  more  desire  a  rose 
Than  wish  a  snow  in  May's  new-fangled  shows, 
But  like  of  each  thing  that  in  season  grows." 

He  probably  never  traveled  far,  but  how  in- 
tensely does  he  feel  the  curious  sensations 
of  all  travelers,  the  weariness  and  yet  the 
eagerness  to  see  the  new  sights  !  How  per- 
fectly modern  sound  in  the  "  Comedy  of 
Errors"  (i,  i)  the  words:  — 

"  Go  bear  it  to  the  Centaur,  where  we  host, 
And  stay  there,  Dromio,  till  I  come  to  thee. 
Within  this  hour  it  will  be  dinner  time, 
Till  that,  I  '11  view  the  manners  of  the  town, 
Peruse  the  traders,  gaze  upon  the  buildings 
And  then  return  and  sleep  within  mine  inn, 
For  with  long  travel  I  am  stiff  and  weary." 

He  possessed,  like  Schiller,  who  never  saw 
Switzerland,  and  yet  wrote  "  Tell,"  the  won- 
derful gift  of  filling  the  lack  of  distinct 
knowledge  with  the  poetical  power  of  im- 
agination, or,  as  he  calls  it  himself,  "  to 
make  imaginary  puissance  "  and  "  to  piece 
out  our  imperfections  with  our  thought." 

119 


No  doubt  certain  things,  details  of  local 
civilization,  cannot  be  imagined.  One  has 
to  go  and  study  them.  We  will  therefore,  to 
gain  a  fuller  understanding  of  the  hospitality 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  follow  a  contem- 
porary of  Shakespeare  in  his  travels,  Mon- 
taigne, a  clear-sighted  observer,  who  as  grand 
seigneur  had  the  good  fortune  to  make  ex- 
tended voyages  in  France,  Southern  Germany, 
and  Italy.  Although  himself  rather  a  spoiled 
gentleman,  he  generally  is  full  of  praise  for 
the  comforts  and  elegance  of  the  inns,  espe- 
cially in  the  south  of  Germany.  Only  once 
he  had  to  complain  about  the  "  liberte  et 
fierte  Almanesque,"  and  this  happened  at 
Constance  in  the  "Eagle/'  The  elegance  of 
the  Renaissance  hostelries  was  indeed  sur- 
prising and  has  hardly  been  surpassed  in  our 
days  of  luxurious  traveling.  Not  only  most 
of  the  beds  were  covered  with  silk,  as  in  the 
"Crown"  at  Chalons,  for  instance,  —  "la 
pluspart  des  lits  et  couvertes  sont  de  soie," 
—  but  sometimes  the  table  silver  was  richly 
and  artistically  decorated,  as  in  the  "  Bear  " 
at  Kempten  (Bavaria) :  "  On  nous  y  servit 
de  grands  tasses  d'arjant  de  plus  de  sortes  (qui 
n'ont  usage  que  d'ornemant,  fort  labourees  et 

120 


anb 

semees  d'armoiries  de  divers  Seigneurs),  qu'il 
ne  s'en  tient  en  guiere  de  bones  maisons." 
In  many  places  still  the  wooden  plates  and 
cups  were  used,  sometimes  covered  with  sil- 
ver ;  tin  plates,  which  appear  at  the  end  of 


the  fifteenth  century,  seem  to  impress  Mon- 
taigne as  a  novelty.  He  notes  at  least  ex- 
pressly that  in  the  "Rose"  at  Innsbruck  he 
was  served  in  "  assiettes  d'etain."  In  the  same 
very  good  "logis"  he  admired  the  beautiful 
laces  which  decorated  the  bed-linen  —  the 
pride  of  the  German  Hausfrau  to  the  pres- 
ent day.  The  sheets  had,  he  said,  "  quatre 

121 


doigt  de  riche  ouvrage  de  passement  blanc, 
comme  en  la  pluspart  des  autres  villes  d' Alle- 
maigne."  Other  things,  on  the  contrary, 
which  one  finds  to-day  in  the  most  modest 
lodging-house — as,  a  stairway  carpet — seem 
to  him  very  strange  and  a  great  novelty,  al- 
though he  used  to  stop  only  in  first-class 
houses.  The  inn  "  Zur  Linde"  in  Augsburg 
—  "a  Tenseigne  d'un  arbre  nome  'linde' 
au  pais"  —  possessed  this  novel  luxury,  and 
Montaigne  describes  it  in  this  detailed  man- 
ner :  "  Le  premier  appret  etrange  et  qui 
montre  leur  properte,  ce  fut  de  trouver  a 
notre  arrivee  le  degres  de  la  vis  (spiral  stair- 
way) de  notre  logis  tout  couvert  de  linges, 
pardessus  lesquels  il  nous  falloit  marcher, 
pour  ne  salir  les  marches  de  leur  vis  qu'on 
venait  de  laver." 

The  linden  tree  was  very  popular  in  Ger- 
many as  a  tavern  sign;  under  the  shadow 
and  in  the  sweet  perfume  of  the  village 
Linde,  old  and  young  loved  to  gather  to 
dance  and  sing.  How  cozy  the  inn  room 
looked  at  times  we  may  see  from  his  de- 
scription of  the  "  Crown "  in  Lindau.  A 
great  bird  cage  "a  loger  grand  nombre  d'oi- 
seaus  "  was  connected  with  the  woodwork  of 

122 


the  comfortable  bench  that  used  to  surround 
the  big  stove.  A  look  at  Diirer's  engraving, 
"  The  Dream,"  will  help  our  phantasy  to 
see  and  feel  more  clearly  the  "  Gemutlich- 
keit  "  of  such  a  stove-corner.  Leaning  back 
in  soft  cushions,  a  philistine  in  dressing- 
gown  is  peacefully  dozing,  while  a  beauti- 
ful young  woman  standing  at  his  side  seems 
to  reveal  a  part  of  his  dream. 

The  most  luxurious  hotel  Montaigne  ever 
stopped  at  was  one  in  Rome,  nobly  called 
"Au  Vase  d'Or."  "As  in  the  palace  of 
kings,"  the  furniture  was  covered  with  silk 
and  golden  brocades.  But  he  did  not  feel  at 
home  in  his  royal  room,  constantly  fearing 
to  injure  the  costly  things,  and  to  get  a  great 
bill  against  him  for  damages.  So  he  decided 
to  move  to  more  modest  quarters,  not  with- 
out dictating  to  his  secretary  :  "  M.  de  Mon- 
taigne estima  que  cette  magnificence  estoit 
non-sulement  inutile,  mais  encore  penible 
pour  la  conservation  de  ces  meubles,  chaque 
lict  estant  du  pris  de  quatre  ou  cinq  cans 
escus."  Most  of  the  Italian  inns  of  his  time 
stood  in  curious  contrast  to  this  royal  sump- 
tuosity.  Often  the  windows  were  mere  holes 
in  the  walls,  simply  closed  with  wooden 

123 


shutters,  which  darkened  the  room  com- 
pletely if  one  needed  to  be  protected  against 
sun,  wind,  or  rain.  Such  was  the  case  of  the 
"  Crown "  in  Siena :  "  Nous  lojames  a  la 
Couronne,  asses  bien,  mais  toujours  sans  vi- 
tres  et  sans  chassis.  Ces  fenetres  grandes  et 
toute  ouvertes,  sauf  un  grand  contrevent  de 
bois,  qui  vous  chasse  le  jour,  si  vous  en  voulez 
chasser  le  soleil  ou  le  vent ;  ce  qu'il  trouvoit 
bien  plus  insupportable  et  irremediable  que 
la  fautedes  rideaux  d'Allemaigne."  This  lack 
of  curtains  in  German  hostelries  was  still, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years  later,  for  Victor 
Hugo  a  reason  to  complain  about  the  "  in- 
digence des  rideaux."  A  real  miserable  time 
Monsieur  de  Montaigne  had  in  Florence  in 
the  "hostellerie  de  Tange,"  where  certain 
little  creatures  drive  him  out  of  bed  and 
force  him  to  sleep  on  the  table :  "  J'etois 
force  la  nuit  de  dormir  sur  la  table  de  la 
salle  ou  je  faisais  mettre  des  matelas  et  des 
draps  .  ,  .  pour  eviter  les  punaises  dont  tous 
les  lits  sont  fort  infectes."  A  similar  experi- 
ence he  has  in  San  Lorenzo,  near  Viterbo, 
the  charming  little  town  of  countless  foun- 
tains. 

But   we   must   take   leave   of  our    noble 

124 


Qttlonfai^ne 

traveling  companion  and  visit  the  painters' 
studios  of  the  time  to  see  if  we  cannot  find 
in  their  work  pictures  of  the  taverns  and 
signs  we  have  heard  so  much  about. 


•  WALUN<5FORD  • 


CHAPTER    VI 

TAVERN   SIGNS   IN   ART  — ESPECIALLY   IN 
PICTURES    BY   THE   DUTCH   MASTERS 


<S>u 


n 


CHAPTER  VI 

TAVERN    SIGNS    IN    ART  ESPECIALLY    IN 

PICTURES    BY    THE    DUTCH    MASTERS 

"  Als  de  vien  es  in  der  man 
dan  is  de  wiesheid  in  de  kan." 

CARLYLE  once  complained  that  the  artists 
preferred  to  paint  "  Corregiosities,"  crea- 
tions of  their  own  fancy,  instead  of  repre- 
senting the  historic  events  of  their  own 
times.  Only  the  Dutch  painters  of  the  sev- 
enteenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  in  so  far 
as  they  keep  clear  of  the  Italian  influence, 
may  justly  be  called  true  historical  painters, 
certainly  with  greater  reason  than  the  school 
of  historical  painting  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, which  tried  to  reconstruct  events  of 
epochs  long  past  with  the  antiquarian  help 
of  old  armor,  swords,  costumes,  and  the  like. 
We  will  find,  therefore,  in  the  works  of  the 
Dutch  masters  the  truest  historical  docu- 
ments for  our  modest  sphere  of  investigation. 
While  Greek  art  reflected,  as  in  a  pure 
mirror,  the  harmony  of  worldly  and  religious 
life  in  Hellas,  the  mediaeval  art  essentially 

129 


n 

served  religious  ideas,  but  in  giving  them  a 
visible  form  used  the  worldly  elements  of 
contemporary  costume  and  architecture. 
Great  artists  like  Giotto,  whose  merits  the 
proud  words  on  his  tombstone  characterize, 
"  Ille  ego  sum  per  quern  pinctura  extincta 
revixit,"  proved  themselves  the  best  histori- 
ans, because  they  possessed,  besides  deep  re- 
ligious concentration,  the  gift  of  true  ob- 
servation, thus  introducing  in  their  works 
valuable  information  about  the  life  of  their 
own  time. 

Not  until  the  dawn  of  the  Renaissance 
had  freed  the  worldly  spirit  from  eccle- 
siastical shackles  did  men  imbued  with  a 
deep-rooted  love  of  their  country,  like  the 
Venetian  Vittore  Carpaccio,  or  the  Floren- 
tine Benozzo  Gozzoli,  give  us  true  pictures 
of  home  life.  Out  of  the  solemn  walls  of 
churches  and  cloisters  they  lead  us  into  the 
animated  and  picturesque  life  of  the  streets, 
which  were  not,  as  some  authors  try  to 
make  us  believe,  above  all  the  scene  of  wild 
and  unbridled  passions,  but  which  we  might 
compare  with  arteries  filled  with  the  red 
and  healthy  blood  of  social  life.  In  his 
frescoes  from  the  life  of  St.  Augustine  in 

130 


n 

San  >Gimignano,  Benozzo  shows  us  how 
parents  present  their  little  boy  to  the  "  ma- 
gistro  grammatice  "  in  the  street  in  front  of 
the  open  schoolroom.  Little  Augustine, 
crossing  his  arms  over  his  breast  in  an  atti- 
tude of  deference,  looks  rather  inquisitively 
at  his  future  master,  while  in  the  parents' 
faces  we  read  the  earnest  hope  that  the  son 
will  make  "  ultra  modum  "  great  progress, 
and  never  deserve  such  shameful  public  pun- 
ishment as  we  see  administered  to  the  little 
good-for-nothing  on  the  right  side  of  the 
picture.  But  we  do  not  observe  a  school- 
master sign  hung  out,  such  as  have  come 
down  to  us  from  the  German  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. The  Italian  painter  still  delights,  above 
all,  in  the  architectural  beauty  of  his  native 
city.  In  the  same  way  Carpaccio  shows  us 
the  piazzas  and  canals  of  his  beloved  Venice 
in  the  splendor  of  processions,  solemn  re- 
ceptions of  foreign  ambassadors,  and  the 
like,  decorated  with  flags  and  Oriental  car- 
pets. The  humble  inn  of  the  people  does 
not  yet  attract  the  eye  of  the  artist,  who  de- 
lights in  the  elegance  of  palaces  and  the 
grandeur  of  public  buildings. 

The  early  artists  of  the  Netherlands,  too, 
131 


n 

represent  the  street,  not  filled  with  the  noisy, 
everyday  life  of  the  people,  but  as  a  quiet 
stage,  on  which  the  holy  procession  of  saints 
solemnly  move,  as  in  Memling's  picture  of 
St.  Ursula's  arrival  in  Rome.  In  quiet,  ele- 
gant rooms  the  noble  donors  kneel  before 
the  holy  virgin,  saints  unite  in  a  "santa  con- 
versazione/' far  from  the  world.  Here  and 
there  only  a  window  looks  out  on  a  tiny 
landscape,  with  rivers  and  bridges,  roads, 
and  fortified  towns  on  distant  hills,  beyond 
which  our  "Wanderlust"  draws  us.  This 
little  section  of  nature  slowly  grows  larger, 
the  narrow  limitations  of  architecture  fall; 
crowned  only  with  the  glorious  light  of 
heaven,  Mary  sits  in  the  open  green  fields, 
which  give  good  pasture  to  the  tired  donkey. 
Thus  Jan  van  Scorel  has  painted  the  holy 
family  in  a  charming  picture  of  the  collec- 
tion Rath  in  Pest.  Out  of  pious  seclusion 
the  way  leads  into  free  nature,  to  meadows 
and  brooks,  to  clattering  mills,  and  finally, 
for  a  rest  after  the  long  walk,  to  the  peas- 
ant's inn. 

Even  earlier,  before  the  Dutch  painters, 
a  pupil  of  Durer,  Hans  Sebald  Beham,  one 
of  the  "  godless  painters  of  Nuremberg," 

132 


n 

who  were  exiled  from  their  native  town  on 
account  of  socialistic  tendencies,  has  taken 
us  along  this  road.  In  one  of  his  larger  en- 
gravings he  pictures  the  different  stages  of  a 
rustic  wedding,  and  for  the  first  time  shows 
us  the  signboard,  hanging  on  a  long  stick, 
from  a  dormer  window  of  the  tavern.  We 
might  date  the  painted  sign  from  the  inven- 
tion of  oil  painting  on  wooden  panels  by  the 
brothers  Van  Eyck,  an  art  which  was  intro- 
duced in  Italy  through  Antonello  da  Mes- 
sina as  late  as  1473.  The  signs  of  earlier 
date  we  have  to  imagine  as  either  sculptures, 
closely  united  with  the  architecture  of  the 
house,  or  as  mural  paintings  such  as  we  still 
see  to-day  in  Stein-on-the-Rhine,  for  in- 
stance, on  the  house  "  Zum  Ochsen." 

Master  Diirer  himself  once  hung  out  the 
little  tablet  with  his  famous  monogram  as  a 
tavern  sign  over  the  fantastic  ruin,  in  which 
he  places  the  birth  of  Christ  in  his  beautiful 
engraving  of  the  year  1504,  proud  to  have 
prepared  such  a  cozy  inn  for  Our  Lady  and 
her  God-given  Child. 

But  the  whole  wealth  of  signs,  from  the 
natural  simple  form  of  the  speaking  sign  to 
the  most  elaborate  examples  of  signs  painted 

133 


n 

or  artfully  wrought  in  iron,  reveals  itself  to 
us  later  in  the  realistic  pictures  of  the  Dutch 
painters. 

The  earliest  representation  of  a  speaking 
sign,  where  the  merchandise  itself  is  still 
hung  out,  I  have  seen  in  a  woodcut  illustrat- 
ing a  book  printed  in  Augsburg  in  1536: 
"Hie  hebt  an  das  Concilium  zu  Constanz." 

It  is  a  baker's  sign:  large  "brezels"  on  a 
wooden  stick,  a  primitive  precursor  of  the 
artful  baker's  sign  we  observe  in  Jan  Steen's 
charming  picture  "The  baker  Arent  Oost- 
waard  "  in  the  Rijks  Museum  at  Amsterdam. 
In  more  modern  times  the  real  merchandise 
is  sometimes  supplanted  by  an  imitation  of 
the  different  loafs  in  wood  and  neatly  painted 
in  natural  colors,  such  as  we  see  in  an  amus- 
ing sign  from  Borgo  San  Dalmazzo,  a  pictur- 
esque mountain  town  near  Cuneo  in  northern 
Italy. 

A  similar  evolution  maybe  noted  in  other 
trade  signs :  first  the  real  boots,  and  later  a 
copy  in  wood,  painted  red  if  possible;  first 
the  big  pitcher  and  the  shining  tin  tankard 
decorated  with  fresh  foliage,  later  the  imi- 
tation in  a  wreath  of  iron  leaves.  Everywhere 
in  the  tavern  and  kermess  scenes  painted  by 

134 


n 


Dutch  masters,  we  see  real  pitchers  and  tank- 
ards hanging  over  the  doors  as  speaking  signs 
inviting  the  peasants  to  enter  and  partake  of 
a  refreshing  drink.  In  northern  Germany  the 


a  Bongo  Sao  Etolrnas 


"Krug"  (pitcher)  was  so  popular  as  a  sign 
that  the  landlord  was  called  after  it,  "  Kruger," 
to  this  day  a  widely  spread  family  name. 

Unfortunately  the  Dutch  artists  loved  the 
interior  of  the  tavern  still  better  than  its  facade, 
otherwise  we  should  find  still  more  of  the 
old  signs  in  their  pictures.  Jan  Steen,  a  genius 
in  the  art  of  living  as  well  as  in  the  art  of 
painting,  was  a  brewer's  son  and  occasionally 
he  played  the  landlord  himself,  in  1654,  in 

135 


in  (Jflrf 

the  tavern  "Zur  Schlange,"  and  in  1656  "  In 
der  Roskam,"  both  in  Delft.  In  his  latter 
days,  when  he  had  returned  to  his  birthplace, 
Leyden,  where  he  once  was  enrolled  as  a  stu- 
dent of  the  university,  he  obtained  a  license 
from  the  city  fathers  "de  neringh  van  open- 
bare  herbergh."  Who  could  deny  aesthetic 
influence  to  tavern  rooms  bedecked  with 
genuine  Steens?  Other  artists  like  Brouwer 
paid  their  tavern  debts  in  pictures,  and  thus 
created  an  artistic  atmosphere  in  which  young 
artists  like  Steen  himself  felt  most  naturally 
at  ease. 

In  a  picture  in  Brussels,  "The  Assembly  of 
the  Rhetoricians,"  the  president  of  a  debat- 
ing society  reads  the  prize  poem  to  the  peas- 
antry assembled  outside  a  tavern,  the  speak- 
ing sign  of  which,  pitcher  and  tankard,  is 
hanging  out  on  a  large  oaken  branch.  More 
frequent  than  this  bush  is  the  wreath — • 
known  to  us  already  as  a  sign  in  antiquity - 
surrounding  the  jolly  pitcher  as  we  see  it  in 
Du  Jardin's  sunny  picture  "The  Trumpeter 
before  a  Tavern,"  in  Amsterdam. 

David  Teniers  gives  the  preference  to  the 
half  moon  and  rarely  omits  to  place  a  pitcher 
above  the  signboard.  Sometimes  he  deco- 

136 


a  (painting  fiy  £enicr0  in 


n 

rates  his  moon  tavern  with  the  escutcheon 
of  Austria  and  the  imperial  eagle ;  for  instance, 
in  a  picture  in  Vienna.  In  his  great  painting 
in  the  Louvre  we  see  a  mail-stage-driver's 
horn,  a  kind  of  hunting-horn,  although  the 
master,  who  died  in  1690,  did  not  live  to  see 
the  mail-coach  introduced. 

In  the  representations,  then  so  popular, 
of  corporations  assembled  at  festive  meals, 
we  sometimes  remark  in  the  background, 
through  an  open  window,  the  stately  guild- 
houses  crowned  with  their  signs ;  the  little 
lamb  with  the  flag,  for  instance,  in  Bartho- 
lomaeus  van  der  Heist's  superb  banquet  of 
the  city  guard  in  the  Rijks  Museum  at 
Amsterdam.  But  perhaps  no  other  artist  has 
given  us  a  more  vivid  impression  of  the 
beauty  of  the  street  with  its  various  glitter- 
ing signs  than  the  brothers  Berkheyden  in  the 
picture  of  which  we  reproduce  a  section  in 
our  Frontispiece.  The  street  itself  has  been 
the  painter's  real  object,  the  play  of  light 
and  shade  on  its  various  architectural  features 
fascinates  him  more  than  the  people  passing 
through  it,  who  once  acted  the  principal 
role  and  are  now  treated  as  mere  accessories 
valuable  for  accenting  the  perspective  of  the 

137 


n 

picture.  Gerrit  Berkheyden  has  painted  the 
same  market-place  of  Harlem  again  in  his 
sunny  picture  of  1674  in  the  London  Na- 
tional Gallery,  but  this  time  the  street,  gayly 
decorated  with  signs,  is  more  distant  and  lost 
in  shadow. 

Fifty  years  later  Hogarth  gave  us  a  picture 
of  London  streets  and  their  fantastic  signs, 
but  not  in  the  Dutch  spirit  of  naive  truthful- 
ness. There  is  hardly  an  engraving  among  his 
numerous  productions  representing  a  street 
scene,  without  a  tavern  sign.  All  forms  are 
represented,  the  detached  signpost  character- 
istic of  England,  such  as  the  "  Adam  and  Eve  " 
sign  on  the  large  engraving  "  The  March 
to  Finchley,"  or  the  sign  of  "The  Sun" 
hung  out  on  a  bracket  in  his  engraving  of 
"The  Day,"  dated  1738;  again,  a  painted 
board,  fastened  against  the  wall,  as  we  see  it 
over  the  door  of  the  Bell  Tavern,  in  one  of 
his  earliest  prints  dated  1731  in  the  cycle 
"A  Harlot's  Progress."  In  the  same  plate 
we  notice  over  another  tavern  door  a  large 
chessboard,  familar  to  us  from  the  old  Roman 
taverns.  Usually  this  cubistic  pattern  deco- 
rates the  signpost  standing  in  front  of  the  ale- 
house, as  seen  in  our  design  of  the  sign-painter 

138 


n 

from  the  engraving  "The  Day."  Hogarth's 
sarcastic  mind  was  inclined  anyway  to  distort 
life's  pictures  like  a  comic  mirror,  and  it  will 
be  difficult  to  determine  how  much  further 
he  has  caricatured  the  actual  signs  he  saw  in 
the  streets  of  London  which,  themselves,  were 
very  often  the  creations  of  a  cartoonist. 
Most  of  his  signs  seem  true  copies  from  life ; 
others,  like  the  barber  sign  in  the  engrav- 
ing "The  Night," or  the  above-mentioned 
"Good  Eating,"  I  am  inclined  to  think  exag- 
gerations or  fanciful  inventions,  although,  to 
be  sure,  the  carved  frame  around  the  grue- 
some pitcher  of  St.  John  the  Baptist's  head 
shows  a  distinct  historic  style,  somewhat 
plainer  and  of  more  recent  date  than  the 
richly  carved  Renaissance  frame  of  the  Adam 
and  Eve  signboard. 

While  to  Hogarth  the  sign  seemed  to  be 
an  excellent  medium  wherewith  to  increase 
the  bitterness  of  his  satire,  the  German  ro- 
mantic artists  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
Moritz  von  Schwind  and  Spitzweg,  loved 
to  introduce  it  in  their  pictures  as  a  fairy 
element.  The  golden  pattern  of  a  star  sign 
is  woven  into  the  soft  lines  of  their  composi- 
tions :  "The  Farewell,"  by  Spitzweg,  and 

130 


n 

the  famous  "Wedding  Journey/'  by  Schwind, 
in  the  Schack  Gallery  at  Munich.  A  friendly 
star  is  twinkling  over  both  the  lovers  who 
part  with  tears,  and  those  who  are  starting 
upon  their  journey  in  the  dewy  morning  of 
life. 


CHAPTER    VII 
ARTISTS  AS  SIGN-PAINTERS 


jjrom  an  en$va&in0 


CHAPTER   VII 

ARTISTS    AS    SIGN-PAINTERS 

"  Ou  il  n'y  a  pas  d'eglise  je  regarde  les  enseignes." 

VICTOR  HUGO. 

GOOD  old  Diderot,  who  to-day  sits  so  peace- 
fully in  his  armchair  of  bronze  on  the  Bou- 
levard Saint -Germain  and  observes  with 
philosophical  calm  the  restless  stream  of 
Parisian  life  passing  him  by  day  and  night, 
was  once  a  severe  critic.  We  might  call  him 
the  father  of  critics,  since  he  reviewed  the 
first  French  Art  Exhibition  arranged  in  the 
Salon  carre  of  the  Louvre.  From  this  salon 
the  modern  French  Expositions  in  Paris  de- 
rive their  name,  although  they  have  grown 
into  bewildering  labyrinths  of  art  and  have 
long  ago  lost  the  intimacy  and  elegance  in- 
herent in  a  salon.  When  Diderot  intended 
to  hurt  the  feelings  of  an  exhibiting  artist, 
he  used  to  call  him  a  "  peintre  d'enseigne," 
and  he  was  cruel  enough  to  use  this  term 
rather  frequently  with  those  painters  "  qui 
ne  se  servent  de  la  brosse  que  pour  salir  la 
toile."  In  the  famous  encyclopaedia  which, 

143 


together  with  d'Alembert,  he  edited  in  1779, 
and  which  brought  them  the  honorary  title 
of  "  Encyclopedistes,"  he  gives  two  defini- 
tions of  the  French  word  for  sign,  "en- 
seigne":  first,  a  flag;  and  second,  conde- 
scendingly, "petit  tableau  pendu  a  une 
boutique/'  As  we  see,  the  great  critic  did 
not  appreciate  sign-painters  and  their  works 
very  highly ;  and  in  this  respect  he  only 
shared  the  general  opinion  of  the  public, 
which  liked  to  poke  fun  at  these  "  artistes 
en  plein  vent." 

Charlet,  who  usually  celebrates  in  his  lith- 
ographs the  soldiers  of  the  great  Napoleon, 
is  the  author  of  an  amusing  cartoon  on  our 
poor  sign-painters.  "J'aime  la  couleur  "  is 
the  title  of  the  spirituel  design  which  leaves 
us  in  doubt  which  color  the  sign-artist  really 
prefers  —  the  red  on  his  large  palette  or  the 
red  of  the  wine  in  the  glass  he  is  holding. 

In  similar  vein  Hogarth  represents  him 
as  a  poor  devil  in  rags  and  as  a  conceited 
fellow  evidently  very  proud  of  his  mediocre 
work.  Like  his  French  colleague  he  loves 
a  drink  in  this  cold,  windy  business  of  his ; 
at  least  the  round  bottle  hanging  on  the 
frame  of  the  signboard  contains  to  our  mind, 


not  varnish,  but  something  in  the  Scotch 
whiskey  line. 

To  the  "  Musee  de  la  rue  "  his  immortal 
works  were  dedicated,  said  a  malicious 
Frenchman;  but  after  all,  was  this  really  so 
degrading  at  a  time  when  excellent  artists 
did  not  hesitate  to  exhibit  their  work  in  the 
open  street?  Monsieur  Georges  Cain,  the 
director  of  the  Carnavalet  Museum,  who 
knows  all  the  "  Coins  de  Paris  "  so  well  and 
with  whom  it  is  so  entertaining  to  prome- 
nade "a  travers  Paris/'  tells  us  that  in  the 
days  before  the  Revolution  the  young  art- 
ists who  were  not  yet  members  of  the  offi- 
cial academies  used  to  show  their  paintings 
on  the  Place  Dauphine,  once  situated  be- 
hind the  Palais  de  Justice.  If  Jupiter  Plu- 
vius  did  not  interfere,  the  exhibition  was 
arranged  on  the  day  of  the  "  petite  Fete- 
Dieu."  Great  linen  sheets  were  pinned  over 
the  shop-windows  and  formed  the  back- 
ground for  paintings  of  such  eminent  artists 
as  Oudry,  Boucher,  Nattier,  or  Chardin, 
works  of  art  which  to-day  are  considered 
treasures  of  the  Louvre,  as  "  La  Raie,"  ex- 
hibited by  Chardin  for  the  first  time  in  1728 
in  this  museum  of  the  street.  "  Quel  joli 

145 


spectacle/'  says  Cain  in  his  "  Coins  de  Paris/' 
"  devaient  offrir  la  place  Dauphine,  les  facades 
roses  des  deux  maisons  d'angle  et  le  vieux 
Pont-Neuf — decor  exquis,  pittoresque  et 
charmeur  —  encombres  d'amateurs,  de  ba- 
dauds,  de  critiques,  de  belles  dames,  d'artistes, 
d'aimables  modeles  en  claire  toilette,  se  pres- 
sant  affaires,  babillards,  enthousiastes,  joyeux, 
par  une  douce  matinee  de  mai,  devant  les 
toiles  fraiches  ecloses  des  Petits  Exposants 
de  la  Place  Dauphine! >J 

Our  respect  for  the  "  artistes  en  plein  vent " 
can  but  increase,  when  we  hear  that  three 
famous  painters  have  begun  their  career  with 
the  composition  of  a  sign:  Holbein,  Pru- 
d'hon,  and  Chardin.  All  kinds  of  tavern  anec- 
dotes are  in  circulation  regarding  Holbein, 
who  was  rather  a  gay  bird  in  his  youth.  Ac- 
cording to  one  of  them  he  once  got  so  tired 
of  painting  the  decoration  of  a  tavern  room 
that  he  concluded  to  deceive  the  landlord, 
watching  eagerly  his  work,  by  counterfeiting 
himself  standing  on  a  scaffold  before  the  wall 
busily  engaged  in  his  work.  Thus  he  was 
able  to  skip  out  and  have  a  good  time  in  an- 
other tavern,  while  the  good  landlord,  every 
time  he  looked  through  the  door,  was  pleased 


to  see  him  ever  diligently  working.  One 
of  Holbein's  earliest  works  was  a  sign  for  a 
pedagogue  representing  a  schoolroom ;  this 
is  still  preserved  in  the  Museum  at  Basle. 

Who  would  have  thought  that  Prud'hon 
—the  artist  who  dwelled  in  romantic  dreams, 
and  whose  wonderful  creation  of  Psyche, 
borne  away  by  loving  wind-gods,  lives  on,  a 
pleasant  fancy  in  our  minds  —  had  begun  his 
artistic  career  by  painting  a  sign  for  a  hatter 
in  his  native  town?  This,  we  suppose,  was 
the  first  and  last  time  that  he  painted  such 
an  unpoetical  thing  as  a  hat.  Like  Holbein 
he  was  just  fourteen  years  old  at  the  time 
when  he  produced  this  picture,  which  like- 
wise has  come  down  to  us ;  at  least  it  still  ex- 
isted when  the  ficole  des  Beaux-Arts  in  Paris 
arranged  a  Prud'hon  Exhibition  in  1874. 

The  third  great  artist  who  gained  his  first 
success  by  means  of  a  sign  was  Chardin.  A 
friend  of  his  father,  a  surgeon,  who  did  not 
disdain  to  play  the  barber  as  a  side  issue  had 
given  him  the  order.  It  was  not  unusual  for 
doctors  to  hang  out  a  pretty  sign ;  if  they 
were  poetically  inclined,  they  ventured  a  little 
rhyme  on  it,  as  shown  by  this  Dutch  ex- 
ample:— 

147 


00 

"  Den  Chirurgijn 
Vermindert  de  pijn 
Door  Gods  Genade." 

For  this  respect  the  barber  and  hair-dressing 
artists  showed  no  less  talent,  as  this  French 
verse  will  sufficiently  prove:  — 

u  La  Nature  donne  barbe  et  cheveux 
Et  moi,  je  les  coupe  tous  les  deux." 

Well,  our  "  chirurgien-barbier  "  followed 
the  general  custom  of  his  time  and  ordered 
a  sign.  Naturally  he  expected  Chardin  to 
paint  on  it  all  his  knives,  his  trepan,  and  other 
instruments  of  torture,  and  was  not  a  little 
surprised  to  find  something  very  different. 
The  proportions  of  the  signboard,  which 
was  very  long,  twelve  feet  long  by  three  feet 
high,  had  suggested  to  the  young  artist  an 
animated  composition  which  he  styled  "les 
suites  d'un  duel  dans  la  rue"  and  for  which 
all  the  members  of  his  family  had  been 
obliged  to  pose  as  models.  Only  one  part  of 
the  picture,  where  the  wounded  was  carried 
to  a  surgeon's  office,  referred  to  the  business  of 
his  father's  friend.  Fearing,  therefore,  a  possi- 
ble objection  on  his  part,  the  artist  took  the 
precaution  to  fasten  the  sign  in  the  night  to 
the  doctor's  house,  who  was  awakened  in 

148 


the  morning  by  a  big  crowd  assembled  be- 
fore it,  evidently  admiring  the  chef  d'oeuvre. 
Unfortunately  this  early  work  of  Chardin's 
no  longer  exists.  His  paintings,  so  much 
more  serious  and  solid  than  the  frivolities  of 
Boucher  and  Lancret,  the  idols  of  the  public 
of  his  time,  have  only  recently,  in  our  demo- 
cratic times,  received  fully  the  appreciation 
they  deserve. 

But  the  most  famous  of  signs  painted  by 
a  great  artist  is  without  doubt  the  one  which 
Watteau,  in  1720,  shortly  before  his  death, 
made  for  the  art  dealer  Gersaint,  in  three 
days,  "to  limber  up  his  stiff  old  fingers/'  It 
is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  Watteau 
ever  produced  and  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  the  German  Kaiser.  French  critics,  how- 
ever, think  that  it  was  executed  by  a  pupil, 
from  the  original  sketch  of  the  master,  which 
has  been  found  and  which  shows  more  "  loose 
qualities,"  to  use  an  artist's  term.  However 
that  may  be,  the  picture  that  Frederic  the 
Great  purchased  through  his  art  agent  in 
Paris  is  a  beauty.  A  good  friend  of  Watteau's, 
a  Monsieur  de  Julienne,  the  first  possessor 
of  the  sign,  and  owner  of  another  painted 
by  Watteau  for  Gersaint's  art  shop,  entitled 

149 


"  Vertumnus  and  Pomona/'  was  very  proud  of 
this  new  possession,  as  we  might  judge  from 
the  fact  that  he  asked  the  engraver  Aveline  to 
engrave  it  with  this  inscription :  — 

u  Watteau,  dans  cette  enseigne  a  la  fleur  de  ses  ans 
Des  Maistres  de  son  art  imite  la  maniere; 

Leurs  caracteres  differens, 
Leurs  touches  et  leur  gout  composent  la  matiere 

De  ces  esquisses  elegans." 

These  words  refer  to  a  picture  gallery  in 
Gersaint's  shop  which  Watteau  carefully  re- 
produces in  the  sign,  but  which  to  our  mod- 
ern eyes  is  less  fascinating  than  the  elegant 
customers,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  the 
amusing  eagerness  and  enthusiasm  of  these 
aristocratic  connoisseurs. 

Another  sign  by  Watteau,  the  loss  of 
which  we  have  to  deplore,  was  the  property 
of  a  "  marchande  de  modes/'  No  doubt  it 
tempted  many  a  "  Parisienne  "  to  buy  rather 
more  of  the  charming  Watteau  costumes 
than  were  strictly  necessary. 

A  modern  French  artist  who  sometimes 
has  been  honored  with  the  name  "  Watteau 
Montmartrois,"  the  illustrator  Willette,  has 
produced  in  our  days  the  sign  for  the  famous 
cabaret,  the  "  Chat  Noir  "  prototype  of  all 

150 


(Avtittt*  A 

cabarets  in  France  and  elsewhere.  Two  other 
signs  by  his  master-hand,  "  A  Pimage  de 
Notre  Dame  "  and  "  A  Bonaparte,'1  may  still 
be  seen  in  Paris  on  the  Quai  Voltaire  and  on 
the  corner  ot  the  Rue  Bonaparte  and  the 
Rue  de  1' Abbaie. 

Other  great  French  artists  have  painted 
signs  occasionally:  Greuze  did  the  "En- 
seigne  du  Huron "  for  a  tobacco  merchant 
—  which  may  remind  us  of  the  wooden  In- 
dian, guarding  similar  American  shops  in  the 
old  days ;  Carle  Vernet  and  his  son  Hor- 
ace Vernet ;  Gericault,  the  great  sportsman, 
whose  career  as  an  artist  was  cut  short  by  a 
violent  fall  from  a  horse,  is  the  author  of 
the  "  Cheval  blanc,"  which  once  adorned  a 
tavern  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris ;  Ga- 
varni,  the  great  lithographer,  painted  a  sign, 
"  Aux  deux  Pierrots/1  and  drew  it  later  on 
stone;  Carolus  Duran's  "enseigne  brossee 
vigoureusement  sur  une  plaque  legerement 
courbee "  was  first  exhibited  in  the  Salon 
de  la  Societe  Nationale  before  it  was  placed 
over  the  door  of  a  fencing-school ;  and  many 
others. 

Among  the  French  sculptors  Jean  Goujon, 
perhaps  the  greatest  of  them,  the  creator  of 

151 


the  Fontaine  des  Innocents  in  Paris  and  its 
charmingly  graceful  figures,  is  mentioned  as 
the  author  of  a  sign,  "La  chaste  Suzanne/' 
which  once  embellished  a  house  in  the  Rue 
aux  Feves.  To-day  a  plaster  cast  has  been 
substituted  for  the  original,  bought  by  an  art 
collector.  In  the  old  streets  of  Paris  we  may 
still  discover  here  and  there  sculptured  signs 
of  artistic  charm,  such  as  "  La  Fontaine  de 
Jouvence"  in  the  Rue  de  Four  Saint-Ger- 
main, 67,  and  the  fine  relief  of  the  "  Soleil 
d'or  "  in  the  Rue  Saint-Sauveur.  The  little 
Bacchus  riding  so  gayly  on  a  cask,  who  once 
decorated  the  "  Cabaret  du  Lapin  blanc," 
spends  to-day  a  rather  dull  existence,  to- 
gether with  other  retired  colleagues  of 
his,  in  the  Musee  Carnavalet.  Our  little 
"  Remouleur,"  from  the  Rue  des  Nonains 
d'Hyeres,  who  does  not  fail  to  amply  moisten 
his  grindstone,  is  not  only  a  suggestive  sym- 
bol, but  in  his  dainty  rococo  dress  a  very 
amusing  piece  of  sculpture. 

We  cannot  end  our  chat  on  signs  by 
French  artists  without  mentioning  the  name 
of  Victor  Hugo,  to  whom  we  owe  so  much 
information  about  the  wealth  of  signs  that 
still  existed  at  his  time  in  France  and  the 

152 


countries  bordering  on  the  Rhine.  He  was 
himself  a  clever  draughtsman  and  occasion- 
ally sketched  "  des  dessins  aux  enseignes  en- 


chevetrees,"  reminiscences  of  the  real  signs 
he  used  to  admire  on  his  wanderings.  The 
following  quotation  may  show  how  great  was 
his  love  for  signs  :  "  A  Rhinfelden,  les  exu- 
berantes  enseignes  d'auberge  m'ont  occupe 

153 


comme  des  cathedrales ;  et  j'ai  1'esprit  fait 
ainsi,  qu'  a  de  certains  moments  un  etang  de 
village,  clair  comme  un  miroir  d'acier,  en- 
toure  de  chaumieres  et  traverse  par  une  flo- 
tille  de  canards  me  regale  autant  que  le  lac 
de  Geneve." 

Among  the  great  Dutch  masters  Paulus 
Potter,  Albert  Cuyp,  and  Wouwerman  are 
cited  as  occasional  sign-painters.  Even  Pot- 
ter's famous  "  Jonge  Stier  "  in  The  Hague  is 
claimed  as  a  butcher's  sign.  It  would  per- 
haps seem  like  doing  too  much  honor  to  the 
art  of  sign-painting  if  we  numbered  this  re- 
markable work  of  the  twenty-two-year-old 
artist  among  them.  And  what  beautiful 
white  horses,  bathed  in  mellow  sunlight, 
Cuyp  may  have  painted  for  the  "Rossle" 
taverns !  Another  Dutch  artist,  Laurens  van 
der  Vinne  (1629-1702),  is  even  called  the 
Raphael  among  sign-painters.  We  do  not 
know  much  about  his  work,  but  I  am  afraid 
he  did  not  take  this  title  as  a  compliment. 

To  find  Rembrandt's  great  name  in  con- 
nection with  our  art  seems  stranger  still, 
but  there  is  a  tradition  that  copies  of  his 
pictures  —  we  may  think  of  his  good  Sa- 
maritan arriving  with  the  wounded  man  be- 

154 


fore  an  inn  —  were  used  as  signs.  As  we 
shall  see  later,  his  own  portrait  was  occasion- 
ally hung  out  by  a  patriotic  and  art-loving 
landlord  over  the  tavern  door. 

Among  English  artists  Hogarth,  whom 
we  already  know  as  a  keen  observer  of  Lon- 
don signs,  deserves  the  first  place.  He  is 
supposed  to  be  the  author  of  a  sign,  not  very 
gallant  to  the  fair  sex,  called  "A  man  loaded 
with  mischief."  It  represents  a  wife-ridden 
man.  All  kinds  of  delicate  allusions  hidden 
in  the  background  of  the  composition  seem 
to  hint  at  the  sad  fact  that  this  impudent 
woman  on  his  back  holding  a  glass  of  gin 
gets  sometimes  "  drunk  as  a  sow."  I  doubt 
if  Hogarth  engraved  this  plate  himself;  it 
is  signed  "Sorrow"  as  the  engraver  and 
"  Experience "  as  the  designer.  It  would 
do  little  honor  either  to  Hogarth  the  man 
or  the  artist. 

AH  satirical  art  has  this  great  deficiency, 
that  it  is  hard  for  the  public  to  judge  whether 
the  satire  means  to  combat  seriously  the 
vices  and  errors  of  men  or  whether  the 
smile  of  the  satirist  is  not  a  smile  of  com- 
placency. But  such  doubts  must  not  detain 
us  from  visiting  with  good  humor  an  exhi- 

155 


bition  of  signs,  the  spiritual  promoter  of 
which  Hogarth  seems  to  have  been.  At  any 
rate,  he  contributed  quite  a  few  of  his  own 
works  under  the  transparent  pseudonym 
"  Hagarty." 

Bonnell  Thornton,  who,  after  a  brilliant 
journalistic  career  as  editor  of  "The  Con- 
noisseur," "The  St.  James's  Chronicle,"  and 
other  publications,  received  the  greatest 
honor  accorded  to  Englishmen,  a  final  abode 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  was  the  originator 
of  this  curious  exhibition.  Hogarth  was 
at  least  on  the  "  hanging  committee."  The 
fact  that  the  gates  of  the  Signboard  Exhibi- 
tion were  opened  in  the  spring  of  1762,  at 
the  same  time  as  the  official  Exhibition  of 
the  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts, 
provoked  the  anger  of  the  "  Brother  Art- 
ists" and  was  the  signal  for  a  perfect  storm 
among  the  newspapers.  Furious  articles  stig- 
matized the  enterprise  as  "  the  most  impu- 
dent and  pickpocket  Abuse  that  I  ever  knew 
offered  to  the  Publick."  "The  best  enter- 
tainment it  can  afford  is  that  of  standing  in 
the  street,  and  observing  with  how  much 
shame  in  their  Faces  People  come  out  of 
the  House.  Pity  it  will  be,  if  all  who  are 

156 


employed  in  the  carrying  on  this  Cheat,  are 
not  seized  and  sent  to  serve  the  King."  In 
those  days,  "to  serve  the  King"  was  evi- 
dently a  severe  punishment.  The  sign-paint- 
ers in  their  turn  hurried  to  protest  their 
innocence  and  to  refute  "  the  most  malicious 
suggestion  that  their  Exhibition  is  designed 
as  a  Ridicule  on  the  Exhibition  of  the  So- 
ciety for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts.  They 
are  not  in  the  least  prompted  by  any  mean 
Jealousie  to  depreciate  the  Merits  of  their 
Brother  Artists,  .  .  .  their  sole  View  is  to 
convince  Foreigners,  as  well  as  their  own 
blinded  Countrymen,  that  however  inferior 
this  Nation  may  be  unjustly  deemed  in  other 
Branches  of  the  Polite  Arts,  the  Palm  of 
Sign-Painting  must  be  universally  ceded  to 
Us,  the  Dutch  themselves  not  excepted." 
The  committee  even  reprinted  the  articles 
and  letters  abusive  of  the  Exhibition,  "  thank- 
ing the  critics  for  so  successfully  advertising 
their  efforts." 

No  doubt,  this  exposition  was  a  rare  treat. 
Not  only  were  all  the  painted  signs  "  worse 
executed  than  any  that  are  to  be  seen  in  the 
meanest  streets,  and  the  carved  Figures,"  as 
one  of  the  curious  who  visited  the  show  tells 

157 


us,  "  the  very  worst  of  Signpost  Work,  but 
several  Tobacco  Rolls,  Sugar  Loaves,  Hats, 
Wigs,  Stockings  and  Gloves,  and  even  a 
Westphalian  Ham  hung  round  the  room/' 
"The  Cream  of  the  whole  Jest,"  or,  as  the 
French  would  say,  the  "  clou  de  1'exposi- 
tion,"  were  two  boards  behind  blue  curtains 
with  the  warning  inscription :  "  Ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  requested  not  to  finger  them, 
as  blue  curtains  are  hung  over  in  purpose  to 
preserve  them.'*  Since  it  was  the  custom  in 
those  days  to  hide  pictures  of  too  indelicate 
a  nature  in  this  fashion,  the  ladies,  of  course, 
did  not  dare  to  gratify  their  curiosity.  But 
lascivious  gentlemen  who  did  not  hesitate 
to  lift  the  curtains  found  only  the  mocking 
words:  "Ha!  Ha!  Ha!"  and  "He!  He! 
He!" 

The  amusing  catalogue  of  this  extraor- 
dinary Exhibition  has  been  published  in  full 
in  the  Appendix  of  Larwood  and  Hotten's 
"  History  of  Signboards."  It  mentions  many 
of  our  old  acquaintances  like  "  The  Saluta- 
tion, or  French  and  English  manners " ; 
others  are  new  to  us,  as  "The  Barking 
Dogs,"  "  a  landscape  at  moonlight,  the 
moon  somewhat  eclipsed  by  an  accident." 

158 


The  peruke-maker's  sign,  "  Absalom  hang- 
ing," is  again  an  old  friend  of  ours.  But 
the  rhyme  underneath  — 

"  If  Absalom  had  not  worn  his  own  hair 
Absalom  had  not  been  hanging  there  "  — 

seems  to  us  not  quite  equal  in  poetical  value 
to  the  following  we  read  somewhere  else:- 

"  Oh  Absalom  !  oh  Absalom ! 

Oh  Absalom  !  my  son, 
If  thou  hadst  worn  a  .periwig 
Thou  hadst  not  been  undone." 

Some  of  Hagarty  Js  contributions  have  mor- 
alizing titles  —  as,  "The  Spirit  of  Contra- 
diction," representing  two  brewers  with  a 
barrel  of  beer,  pulling  different  ways  —  which 
do  not  amuse  us  any  more  to-day.  "The 
Logger-Heads,"  or,  "We are  Three"  (add: 
fools),  is  an  old  sign  to  which  Shakespeare 
alludes  in  his  "Twelfth  Night"  (n,  iii), 
where  the  Fool  comes  between  Sir  Toby 
Belch  and  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  and,  tak- 
ing each  by  the  hand,  says:  "How  now,  my 
Hearts,  did  you  never  see  the  picture  of  We 
Three?"  In  country  taverns  sometimes  two 
asses  were  painted  on  the  wall,  with  the  in- 
scription: "We  three  asses."  The  newcomer 
used  to  spell  these  words  with  great  serious- 

159 


ness,  to  the  delight  of  the  old  customers. 
Another  sign  by  Hagarty,  "Death  and  the 
Doctor,"  evidently  goes  back  to  the  popular 
scenes  of  the  "  Dance  of  Death  "  and  reminds 
us  of  other  gruesome  signs,  the  above-men- 
tioned French  signs,  "  La  Mort  qui  trompe," 
"  La  Fete  de  Mort"  in  Lyon  and  "La  Cave 
des  Morts"  in  Geneva.  This  physician's  sign 
probably  resembled  the  rude  woodcuts  of  the 
first  printed  editions  of  the  "  Dance  of  Death  '  ' 
from  the  fifteenth  century:  the  doctor  very 
unwilling  to  follow  his  colleague,  "the  sure 
Physician,"  as  Shakespeare  has  called  Death. 
Some  such  picture  was  in  the  poet's  mind 
when  he  wrote  the  words  in  "Cymbeline," 


v,  v:  — 


"  By  medicine  life  may  be  prolong'd,  yet  death 
Will  seize  the  doctor  too." 

This  exhibition  of  Signboards  inspired  by 
Hogarth  was  the  first  and  most  amusing  of 
its  kind.  More  than  one  hundred  years  later 
an  "  Exposition  Nationale  des  Enseignes  par- 
lantes  artistiques"  was  arranged  in  Brussels 
with  one  hundred  and  forty-one  different 
signs,  and  in  1902  the  Prefet  de  la  Seine 
organized  in  the  City  Hall  of  Paris  a  great 

160 


"  Concours  d'Enseignes."  Both  represent 
serious  and  idealistic  efforts  to  improve  the 
artistic  side  of  trade-signs,  and  by  this  means 
to  ennoble  the  picture  of  the  street  so  often 
disfigured  by  vulgar  advertisements.  Well- 
known  artists,  as  the  sculptors  Derve  and 
Moreau-Vauthier,  the  painters  Willette,  Bel- 
lery-Desfontaines,  Felix  Regamey,  and  the 
popular  collaborator  of  "Le  Rire,"  Albert 
Guilleaume,  contributed  to  this  exhibition 
and  thus  stimulated  their  colleagues  to  work 
for  the  Museum  of  the  Street.  Henri  De- 
taille,  the  famous  painter  of  battle  scenes  and 
pupil  of  Meissonier,  was  the  spiritual  author 
of  the  competition.  In  a  letter  to  Grand- 
Carteret,  the  writer  of  a  great,  luxurious 
publication  on  the  signs  of  Lyon,  he  had  ex- 
pressed the  hope  to  educate  and  refine  the 
artistic  instinct  of  the  masses  through  this 
medium  of  noblesigns:  "L'enseigneamusera 
la  foule:  rien  n'empeche  meme  qu'elle  soit 
instructive  tout  en  restant  une  tres  pure  oeuvre 
d'art."  He  ends  his  letter  with  the  follow- 
ing lines  that  give  credit  to  his  good  heart 
and  his  sympathy  for  the  common  people: 
"Que  les  enseignes  les  plus  belles  les  plus 
artistiques  aillent  surtout  dans  les  quartiers 

161 


pauvres,  populeux  et  prives,  de  toute  manifes- 
tation d'art."  If  we  reflect  that  indeed  the 
posters  often  are  the  only  touches  of  bright- 
ness in  the  gray  monotony  of  the  poor  quar- 
ters, we  will  heartily  join  Detaille  in  the 
wish  that  these  posters  might  be  pure  and 
noble  creations  of  art.  Certain  German  post- 
ers, lithographed  by  such  artists  as  Cissarz, 
seem  to  approach  this  ideal.  The  recent 
German  War-Poster,  "GedenketEurer  Dich- 
ter  und  Denker,"  may  find  an  honorable  men- 
tion in  this  connection. 

In  England  the  advice  Detaille  gave  to  the 
artists  "a  reprendre  la  tradition"  has  never 
been  entirely  forgotten,  and  even  to  the  pres- 
ent day  well-known  artists  have  not  dis- 
dained to  paint  signs  occasionally.  But  before 
we  enter  the  amiable  society  of  contempo- 
rary artists  we  will  show  due  honor  to  the 
great  master  Grinling  Gibbons,  who,  so  to 
speak,  is  an  honorary  member  of  the  Sign- 
Makers'  Guild.  To  no  visitor  of  London  is  the 
name  of  this  sculptor  unfamiliar.  His  master- 
hand  carved  the  choir  stalls  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral  and  many  elaborate  wood-sculp- 
tures in  royal  castles.  One  of  his  works  is 
the  famous  golden  cock  in  "  Ye  Olde  Cock 

162 


Tavern"  in  Fleet  Street.  When  the  old  house 
was  torn  down  to  make  room  for  a  branch 
office  of  the  Bank  of  England,  the  noble  bird 
was  obliged  to  move  across  the  street,  where 
he  now  occupies  the  seat  of  honor  in  a  large 
and  rather  dull  room.  I  am  sure  he  would 
prefer  to  roost  in  the  little  paneled  room, 
up  another  flight,  where  Tennyson  wrote  the 
poem  that  made  the  creature  immortal. 


Among  the  living  English  artists  who 
painted  signs  we  may  mention  Nicholson 
and  Pryde,  both  experts  in  the  art  of  the 
poster.  Our  illustration  "The  Goat,"  which 

163 


hangs  out  on  High  Street,  No.  3,  in  Lon- 
don, is  attributed  to  them,  but  even  the  great- 
est admirer  of  Nicholson's  woodcuts  will  not 
find  it  worth  while  to  pay  a  visit  to  this  un- 
attractive ale-house.  There  is  more  charm 
in  "The  Rowing  Barge/'  a  signed  work  of 
G.  D.  Leslie,  member  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy, in  Wallingford  on  the  Thames,  where 
we  found  it  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  old 
Norman  Church  of  St.  Leonhard. 

It  took  even  two  Academicians,  Leslie  and 
L.  E.  Hodgson,  to  produce  the  "  George 
and  Dragon"  sign  in  Wargrave,  a  fascinating 
little  place  buried  amidst  the  greenery  of 
giant  trees.  The  damp  climate  has  effaced 
and  darkened  the  sign  considerably ;  the 
owner  of  the  inn  has  therefore  taken  it  in 
and  placed  it  on  the  garden  side  of  the  house, 
under  the  protection  of  a  balcony.  Wargrave 
has  a  few  other  remarkable  signs,  such  as  the 
one  of  the  "  Bull  Inn,"  which  seems  to  be 
inspired  by  the  beautiful  picture  of  young 
Potter. 

But  not  the  least  beautiful  among  signs 
are  the  works  of  unknown  artists.  All  the 
admirable  signs  in  forged  iron,  from  the 
eighteenth  century  and  the  beginning  of 

164 


the  nineteenth,  in  southern  Germany,  belong 
to  this  group.  Benno  Riittenauer,  to  whom 
we  are  indebted  in  many  ways,  has  praised 
these  pure  works  of  art  in  an  article  on 
"Swabian  Tavern  Signs'1:  "They  are  a 
joy  to  the  eye  and  caress  it  as  the  melody  of 
a  folk-song  caresses  the  ear."  From  what  in- 
visible sources  springs  their  beauty  ?  we  ask, 
just  as  we  do  before  the  great,  miraculous 
flowers  of  Gothic  cathedrals  rising  mysteri- 
ously from  the  plain  cornfields  of  northern 
France.  Simple  artisans  were  their  inventors 
and  creators,  men  who  dared  to  let  their  own 
ideas  grow  in  the  free  play  of  glowing,  flexi- 
ble iron,  not  yet  disturbed  by  pattern-books 
and  school  wisdom. 

More  beautiful  still  than  these  are  the  eter- 
nal signs  with  which  Mother  Nature,  the 
only  real  teacher  of  all  true  artists,  invites  the 
weary  pilgrim  to  rest :  the  moon,  the  gentle 
shining  stars,  and  the  blossoming  trees  under 
whose  perfumed  branches  we  sleep  so  sweetly. 
This  is  the  oldest  inn  ;  the  Germans  call  it 
"  Bei  Mutter  Griin,"  and  the  French  speak 
similarly  of  "  loger  a  1'enseigne  de  la  lune  "  ; 
"coucher  a  1'enseigne  de  la  belle  etoile." 
Nobody  has  sung  the  charms  of  this  natu- 

165 


ral  inn  more  sweetly  than  the  Swabian  poet 
Uhland  in  his  song,  "  Bei  einem  Wirte  wun- 
dermild,"  which  we  beg  permission  to  quote 
in  W.  W.  Skeat's  happy  translation :  — 

"  A  kind  and  gentle  host  was  he 

With  whom  I  stayed  but  now ; 
His  sign  a  golden  apple  was 
That  dangled  from  a  bough. 

"  Yea  !   't  was  a  goodly  apple-tree 

With  whom  I  late  did  rest ; 
With  pleasant  food  and  juices  fresh 
My  parching  mouth  he  blest. 

"  There  entered  in  his  house  so  green 
Full  many  a  light-winged  guest ; 
They  gaily  frisked  and  feasted  well 
And  blithely  sang  their  best. 

"  I  found  a  couch  for  sweet  repose 

Of  yielding  verdure  made  ; 
The  host  himself,  he  o'er  me  spread 
His  cool  and  grateful  shade. 

"  Then  asked  I  what  I  had  to  pay, 

Whereat  his  head  he  shook ; 
O  blest  be  he  for  evermore 
From  root  to  topmost  nook  !  " 


CHAPTER   VIII 
THE  SIGN  IN  POETRY 


c • ., 

••i,.uu.,/u,u,4 - 


Zum  <5o£ bnen  J)i 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SIGN    IN    POETRY 

«'  Er  ging  nicht  in  den  Krug, 
Er  wohnte  gar  darinnen." 

JOACHIM  RACHEL. 

LIKE  a  prophetic  star  the  sign  seems  to 
stand  over  the  birth-house  of  many  a  poet. 
Or  shall  we  not  agree  with  Chateaubriand 
who  saw  in  the  eagle  on  the  house  in  Bread 
Street,  London,  where  Milton  was  born,  an 
"  augure  et  symbole  "  ?  And  is  it  not  a  curi- 
ous coincidence  that  the  greatest  French  com- 
edy-writer was  born  "  a  1'enseignedu  Pavilion 
des  Cinges  dans  la  Rue  des  Etuves  Saint- 
Honore "  in  Paris?  One  of  the  most  in- 
genious reconstructions  of  Robida  (the  archi- 
tect of  Vieux  Paris,  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
any  visitor  of  the  Parisian  World's  Fair  of 
1900)  was  this  birthplace  of  Moliere's  that 
took  its  name  from  the  mighty  corner-beam, 
covered  with  carved  monkeys.  Truly,  Mil- 
ton had  hoped  less  from  the  eagle  on  his 
father's  house  than  from  the  gentle  star  of 
Venus  under  which  he  was  born.  In  his 

169 


n 

family  Bible,  one  of  the  many  autograph 
treasures  of  the  British  Museum,  he  has 
registered  his  birth  with  his  own  hand: 
"  John  Milton  was  born  the  gth  of  Decem- 
ber, 1608,  die  Veneris,  half  an  hour  after  6 
in  the  morning."  It  availed  him  little  to 
be  born  on  the  day  of  Venus,  and  the  prom- 
ise given  to  the  "  children  of  Venus "  by 
an  old  German  calendar  of  1489,  "They 
shall  sing  joyfully  and  free  from  care,"  was 
not  fulfilled  in  his  life.  His  marriage  was 
an  unhappy  one.  Taine  said  of  him :  "  Ni 
les  circonstances  ni  la  nature  Favaient  fait 
pour  le  bonheur."  But  the  eagle  on  the 
house  of  his  childhood  proved  to  be  a  true 
symbol  of  his  great  future,  for  like  an  eagle 
he  soared  to  the  highest  heights  of  poetical 
creation.  Schiller  was  born  in  Marbach  in 
the  neighboring  house  to  the  "  Golden  Lion," 
whose  landlord  his  grandfather  had  been. 

Considering  that  all  houses  in  earlier 
times  were  distinguished  by  such  symbols, 
even  the  most  pious  could  not  help  being 
born  under  a  sign.  Calvin,  the  French  Puri- 
tan, was  even  born  in  an  inn,  the  "  grasse 
hotellerie  des  Quatre  Nations  "  at  Noyen  in 
Picardy.  On  the  other  hand,  merry  souls 

170 


n 

seem  to  have  preferred  saints  as  patrons  of 
their  birthplace,  for  Gavarni,  the  ingenious 
cartoonist,  came  into  the  world  at  Paris  "  a 
Tenseigne  de  Sainte  Opportune,  Rue  des 
Vieilles  Haudriettes." 

Sometimes  Fate  seems  to  mock  the  high- 
flying ambitions  of  a  great  poet,  by  chang- 
ing the  house  of  his  birth  into  a  common 
public-house,  as  happened  in  the  case  of 
Chateaubriand,  "  the  gentilhomme  ne  "  and 
his  birthplace  in  the  Rue  des  Juifs  at  Saint- 
Malo.  On  the  other  hand,  Rabelais's  birth- 
place in  Chinon,  which  became  a  tavern 
after  his  death,  should  have  been  one  from 
the  first  hour  of  his  life ;  for  his  was  like 
the  "  etrange  nativite  "  of  his  hero  Gargan- 
tua :  "  Soubdain  qu'il  fut  ne,  ne  cria  comme 
les  aultres  enfans :  '  Mies,  mies ' ;  mais  a 
haulte  voix  s'escrioit :  '  A  boire,  a  boire, 
a  boire!'  comme  invitant  tout  le  monde  a 
boire."  A  little  poem  tells  us  the  story  how 
his  study  was  transformed  into  a  wine-cellar 
for  merry  revelers  :  - 

"La  chacun  dit  sa  chansonette 
La  le  plus  sage  est  le  plus  fou 

La  cave  s'y  trouve  placee 
Ou  fut  jadis  le  cabinet, 
171 


n 

On  n'y  porte  plus  sa  pensee 

Qu'aux  douceurs  d'un  vin  frais  et  net." 

The  oldest  poetical  tradition  of  tavern  signs 
we  find,  perhaps,  in  the  songs  of  Villon,  who 
sometimes  has  been  called  the  Paul  Verlaine 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  on  account  of  his 
similar  vicissitudes  in  life.  A  child  of  the 
people,  he  is  not  ashamed  of  his  low  origin :  — 

"  Sur  les  tumbeaux  de  mes  ancestres 
Les  ames  desquels  Dieu  embrasse, 
On  n'y  voyt  couronnes  ne  sceptres." 

Living  the  life  of  the  common  people,  he 
mingles  freely  with  them,  and  in  his  wordly 
poems  many  a  tavern  adventure  is  told  with 
zest.  As  a  roaming  scholar  he  wanders  from 
place  to  place  and,  having  rarely  a  penny  in 
his  purse,  he  acquires  easily  the  art  of  dining 
without  paying:  — 

"  C'est  bien  trompe,  qui  Hen  ne  paye, 
Et  qui  peut  vivre  d'advantaige, 
Sans  debourser  or  ne  monnoye 
En  usant  de  joyeux  langaige." 

And  although  he  arrives  at  the  tavern  door 
riding  shank's  mare,  poor  devil  that  he  is,— 

UI1  va  a  pied,  par  faulte  d'asne,"  — 

he  is  rich  in  fascinating  stories  to  win  the 
landlord's  favors  and  to  secure  ample  credit. 

172 


n 

Full  of  self-assurance,  he  demands  always 
the  best  of  everything,  "boire  ypocras  a  jour 
et  a  nuyctee  "  (day  and  night  to  sip  Hypokras), 
one  of  Falstaff's  various  favorite  drinks. 

Curious  sign-names  Villon  mentions;  as, 
the  tin  plate, — 

"le  cas  advint  an  Plat  d'estain," — 

or,  the  golden  mortar  ("le  mortier  d'or"), 
and  even  "  the  pestle/'  The  mortar  was  really 
a  chemist's  sign.  To-day,  even,  we  may  see, 
in  a  little  French  provincial  town  over  the 
door  of  a  druggist,  a  bear  diligently  braying 
some  wholesome  herb,  in  a  mortar,  an  "  Ours 
qui  pile." 

"  Or  advint,  environ  midy, 
Qu'il  estoit  de  faim  estourdy; 
S'en  vint  a  une  hostellerie 
Rue  de  la  Mortellerie, 
Ou  pend  1'enseigne  du  Pestel 
A  bon  logis  et  bon  hostel ; 
Demandant  s'en  a  que  repaistre. 
Ouy  vraiment,  ce  dist  le  maistre, 
Ne  soyez  de  rien  en  soucy 
Car  vous  serez  tres  bien  servy, 
De  pain,  de  vin  et  de  viande." 

The  animal  kingdom  is  represented  by  the 
mule, "  la  Mulle,"  an  inn  frequented  by  Rabe- 
lais, too,  the  red  donkey  ("un  asne  rouge"), 

173 


n 

and  the  white  horse  that,  like  all  the  painted 
horses,  had  the  bad  habit  of  never  moving 
("le  cheval  blanc  qui  ne  bouge").  We  have 
seen  above  that  the  "White  Horse"  was 
popular  in  Italy,  too,  although  an  old  Italian 
proverb  pretends  that  it  is  just  as  capricious 
as  a  beautiful  woman  and  a  source  of  con- 
tinual annoyances :  — 

"Chi  ha  cavallo  bianco  e  belle  moglie 
Non  e  mai  senza  doglie." 

The  most  famous  of  all  the  cabarets  im- 
mortalized by  Villon  is  "le  trou  de  la  Pomme 
de  Pin,"  as  he  usually  calls  it.  In  the  "  Re- 
pues  Franches,"  from  which  we  quoted  the 
story  of  the  Hotel  du  Pestel  we  read:  — 

"  Et  vint  a  la  Pomme  de  Pin 

Demandant  s'ils  avoient  du  bon  vin, 
Et  qu'on  luy  emplist  du  plus  fin 
Mais  qu'il  fust  blanc  et  amoureux." 

We  see  that  our  poet-tramp  hated  adulter- 
aters  of  wine  ("  les  taverniers  qui  brouillent 
nostre  vin")  not  less  sincerely  than  his  old 
Roman  colleague  Horace.  In  his  older  days 
he  regretted  the  dissipation  of  his  youth, 
sadly  reflecting  upon  what  a  comfortable  age 
he  could  have  now  if  ... 

174 


n 

u  J'eusse  maison  et  couche  molle ! 
Mais  quoy?  je  fuyoye  1'escolle, 
Comme  faict  le  mauvays  enfant.   .  .  . 
En  escrivant  cette  parole 
A  peu  que  le  cueur  ne  me  fend." 

The  tavern  of  the  "  Pomme  de  Pin  "  stood 
near  the  Madeleine  Church — not  the  famous 
one  we  all  know,  but  an  old  building  in  the 
"cite,"  Rue  de  la  Lanterne,  which  was  pulled 
down  in  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  Rabe- 
lais loved  the  place  and  praised  this  pine- 
apple higher  than  thegolden  apple  that  young 
Paris  once  gave  to  Venus,  thus  creating  end- 
less troubles  among  men  and  gods:  — 

"La  Pomme  de  Pin  qui  vaut  mieux 
Que  celle  d'or,  dont  fut  troublee 
Toute  la  divine  assemblee." 

Sainte-Beuve  has  called  this  tavern,  con- 
nected with  so  many  proud  names  in  French 
literature,  "la  veritable  taverne  litteraire,  le 
vrai  cabaret  classique,"  a  title  which  to-day 
is  deserved  by  the  "  Cabaret  du  Chat  Noir," 
the  creation  of  such  gifted  artists  as  Henri 
Riviere,  Willette,  and,  last  but  not  least, 
Steinlen,  the  painter  of  its  sign. 

Next  in  literary  celebrity  stands  "  La 
Croix  de  Lorraine,"  where  Moliere  used  to 
relax  from  his  strenuous  life  as  poet  and  actor 

175 


n 

and  get  merry  over  the  blinking  glass,  "  assez 
pour  vers  le  soir  etre  en  goguettes."  Among 
the  guests  ponderous  Boileau  sometimes  ap- 
peared, although  he  seems  to  have  taken  his 
admonition  in  the  "Art  poetique,"  "  con- 
naissez  la  ville,"  rather  seriously  and  to  have 
made  quite  extensive  studies  of  the  Parisian 
public-houses.  We  find  him  in  the  "  Di- 
able,"  who  had  his  quarters  in  those  days 
very  near  the  Sainte  Chapelle,  and  in  "  La 
Tete  Noire,"  a  counterpart  of  "The  Golden 
Head  "  in  Malines  where  Durer  lodged  on 
his  journey  through  the  Netherlands. 

It  would  be  amusing  to  count  how  many 
immortal  works  have  been  created  over  a 
tavern  table.  Have  we  not  heard  that  in  our 
days  Mascagni  wrote  the  incomparable  over- 
ture to  his  "Cavalleria  Rusticana  "  on  the 
little  marble  table  of  a  modern  cafe  ?  Racine 
is  supposed  to  have  written  his  "  Plaideurs  " 
on  the  tavern  table  of  the  "  Mouton  Blanc  " 
in  Paris,  and  this  happy  circumstance  seems 
to  have  affected  his  style  very  agreeably  and 
to  have  made  the  play  easier  for  a  modern 
reader  than  the  solemn  dramas  which  are  so 
difficult  to  enjoy  if  one  does  not  happen  to 
be  a  Frenchman.  How  attractive  a  place  this 

176 


n 

"Mouton   Blanc"   was  we  might  imagine 
from  the  little  rhyme :  - 

"  Ah  !  que  n'ai-je  pour  sepulture 
Les  Deux  Torches  ou  le  Mouton  !  " 

What  gifted  fathers  earned  through  tavern 
creations  the  prodigal  sons  sometimes  lost 
again  in  gambling.  Louis  Racine  spent  the 
little  fortune  his  father  had  left  him  in 
the  "  Epee  de  bois,"  the  same  place  where 
the  comedy-writer  Marivaux  once  gambled 
away  his  paternal  heritage,  regaining  it  soon, 
to  be  sure,  by  new  and  charming  produc- 
tions. It  is  mostly  the  stimulating  company 
of  comrades  and  fellow-artists,  the  freedom 
from  petty  household  cares,  that  draws  the 
poet  to  a  quiet  tavern  corner;  but  some- 
times, too,  a  charming  landlady  is  the  at- 
tractive force  which  may  become  so  irresist- 
ible as  to  bind  him  forever  in  marriage  bonds. 
Maybe,  too,  the  tavern-bill  was  growing  so 
hopelessly  big  that  the  poor  dreamer  saw  no 
other  solution.  This  was  the  reason  why  La 
Serre  married  the  landlady  of  the  "Trois 
ponts  d'or,"  it  being  understood  that  "  con- 
trat  de  manage  valait  quittance  alors  entre 
cabaretiere  et  poete,"  as  Michel-Fournier 
expresses  the  matter. 

177 


n 

The  tender  relationship  between  the  land- 
lady and  the  poet-guest  has  given  birth  to 
numerous  songs,  from  which  we  select  the 
famous  German  Lied  by  Rudolf  Baumbach  : 

u  Angethan  hat  mir's  dein  Wein 
Deiner  Auglein  heller  Schein 
Lindenwirtin,  du  junge !  " 

and  the  not  less  charming  poem  of  Moliere's 
successor,  Dancourt,  composed  in  honor  of 
the  landlady  of  the  "  Cabaret  du  petit  pere 


noire  "; 


"  Si  tu  veux  sans  suite  et  sans  bruit 
Noyer  tous  tes  ennuis  et  boire  a  ta  maitresse, 
Viens,  je  sais  un  reduit 
Inaccessible  a  la  tristesse 

La  nous  serons  servis  de  la  main  d'une  hotesse 
Plus  belle  que  Tastre  qui  luit, 
Et  melant  au  bon  vin  quelque  peu  de  tendresse, 
Contents  du  jour,  nous  attendrons  la  nuit." 

The  classical  literary  tavern  of  England  was 
without  doubt  "The  Mermaid  Tavern," 
once  situated  in  Bread  Street  not  far  from 
Milton's  birthplace.  Here  the  famous  club, 
founded  by  Ben  Jonson,  in  1603,  assembled, 
among  them  the  immortal  Shakespeare.  The 
fascination  of  this  mermaid  was  still  in  the 
nineteenth  century  so  great  as  to  inspire 
Keats  with  his  charming  "  Lines  on  the  Mer- 

178 


n 

maid  Tavern,"  which  we  feel  inclined  to 
quote  in  full  from  Anning  Bell's  illustrated 
edition,  where  it  stands  under  a  graceful  re- 
construction of  the  sign  :  - 

"  Souls  of  Poets  dead  and  gone, 
What  Elysium  have  ye  known, 
Happy  field  or  mossy  cavern, 
Choicer  than  the  Mermaid  Tavern  ? 
Have  ye  tippled  drink  more  fine 
Than  mine  host's  Canary  wine  ? 
Or  are  fruits  of  Paradise 
Sweeter  than  those  dainty  pies 
Of  venison  ?   O  generous  food  ! 
Drest  as  though  bold  Robin  Hood 
Would,  with  his  maid  Marian, 
Sup  and  browse  from  horn  and  can. 

u  I  have  heard  that  on  a  day 
Mine  host's  sign-board  flew  away 
Nobody  knew  whither,  till 
An  astrologer's  old  quill 
To  a  sheepskin  gave  the  story, 
Said  he  saw  you  in  your  glory, 
Underneath  a  new-old  sign 
Sipping  beverage  divine, 
And  pledging  with  contented  smack 
The  Mermaid  in  the  Zodiak. 

"  Souls  of  Poets  dead  and  gone, 
What  Elysium  have  ye  known, 
Happy  fields  or  mossy  cavern, 
Choicer  than  the  Mermaid  Tavern  ?  " 
179 


n 

Truly  a  capricious  wind  has  carried  away 
the  old  Mermaid  sign  into  far  and  unknown 
regions,  and  to-day  the  scholars  are  disputing 
where  really  the  famous  house  stood. 

Two  other  taverns,  less  roughly  handled 
by  Father  Time,  may  claim  to  be  next  in 
literary  rank  :  "  The  Cheshire  Cheese  "  and 
"The  Cock,"  both  in  Fleet  Street.  "Ye 
olde  Cheshire  Cheese/'  or  simply  "The 
Cheese/'  is  not  easy  to  find  because  it  really 
stands  on  a  narrow  side-lane,  the  Wine  Office 
Court.  It  has  the  great  advantage  of  hav- 
ing preserved  unchanged  the  character  of  a 
seventeenth-century  tavern.  Although  ven- 
erable, it  is  not  the  original  building,  which 
was  destroyed,  together  with  many  other 
public-houses  in  the  great  fire  of  1 666.  Pious 
souls  saw  in  the  fact  that  the  conflagration 
started  in  Pudding  Lane  and  ended  at  Pie 
Corner  an  evident  proof  that  the  fire  was 
sent  from  Heaven  as  punishment  for  "the 
sin  of  gluttony."  Shakespeare  is  said  to  have 
turned  in  not  unfrequently  at  the  old  house 
of  the  "  Cheshire  Cheese  "  on  his  way  to  the 
Blackfriars'  Theatre  in  the  Playhouse  Yard, 
Ludgate  Hill,  where  he  was  director  for  a 
time,  or  coming  back  for  a  twilight  drink 

180 


n 

after  the  performance,  which  in  those  times 
closed  as  early  as  five  o'clock.  In  spite  of 
the  warning  fire  of  1666  the  sin  of  gluttony 
is  still  readily  committed  in  the  "  Cheshire 
Cheese,"  whose  specialty,  a  meat  pudding, 
-containing  not  only  roast  beef,  kidneys, 
and  oysters,  but  sky-larks  too  !  —  might  even 
be  called  a  sin  against  the  holy  ghost  of 
poetry.  Once  immersed  in  this  pudding  the 
divine  singers  are  silent  forever  without  the 
consolation  of  the  children's  book  : 

u  And  when  the  pie  was  opened 
The  birds  began  to  sing." 

Some  of  these  lark  puddings  are  even  shipped 
to  Yankeeland,  which  sends  every  year  count- 
less pilgrims  to  the  "Cheshire  Cheese."  If 
possible,  the  American  father  of  a  family 
will  take  the  seat  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  the 
famous  lexicographer,  lean  his  head  against 
the  old  paneling,  which  clearly  shows  the 
marks  of  the  greasy  wigs  of  the  Doctor  and 
his  friend  Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  look  at 
chick  and  child  with  an  Olympian  air,  as  if 
he  wanted  to  say :  "  I  am  Sir  Oracle,  and 
when  I  ope  my  mouth  let  no  dog  bark." 
Among  the  guests  and  visitors  at  this 
181 


n 

"house  of  antique  ease"  we  find  many  fa- 
mous names  beside  Johnson  and  the  author 
of  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  who  dwelt  in 
the  neighboring  house,  No.  6,  Wine  Office 
Court ;  men  like  Swift,  Addison,  Sheridan, 
Pope,  even  Voltaire,  who  must  have  felt 
rather  out  of  place  in  this  atmosphere  of 
beefsteak  and  ale.  Among  modern  poets 
Thackeray  and  Dickens  are  foremost,  — 
Dickens  who  has  studied  so  intimately  the 
taverns  and  inns  of  his  country.  Under  the 
spell  of  these  souls  of  poets  dead^and  gone, 
writers  of  the  present  generation  love  to 
gather  here  in  literary  clubs,  such  as  the 
Johnson  Club,  which  has  adopted  as  its  de- 
vice the  Doctor's  classical  definition  of  the 
word  "club":  "An  assembly  of  good  fel- 
lows meeting  under  certain  conditions." 
Johnson,  who  spent  almost  all  his  life  in 
taverns,  favored  not  only  "The  Cheese" 
with  his  presence,  but  others,  too,  as  "The 
Mitre,"  in  whose  dark  coffee-room  Haw- 
thorne once  dined.  This  old  house  has  en- 
tirely vanished  from  the  ground,  just  as  the 
still  older  inn  "The  Devil  "  — who,  follow- 
ing his  old  custom  of  settling  near  a  church, 
had  established  himself  opposite  St.  Dun- 

182 


n 

Stan's.  Thus  we  no  longer  "  go  to  The 
Devil/'  but  if  we  have  some  serious  business 
on  hand  we  may  step  into  "Child's  Bank," 
which  stands  exactly  on  his  former  spot. 

How  important  a  role  the  waiters  played 
in  these  old  taverns  we  may  realize  from  the 
fact  that  the  portraits  of  two  former  head 
waiters  decorate  the  walls  of  "The  Cheshire 
Cheese."  Tennyson  has  celebrated  another 
of  these  dignitaries  in  a  long  poem  written 
in  the  Cock  Tavern,  beginning  in  this  clas- 
sical fashion :  — 

«  O  PLUMP  head-waiter  at  The  Cock, 

To  which  I  most  resort, 
How  goes  the  time  ?    'T  is  five  o'clock. 

Go  fetch  a  pint  of  port ; 
But  let  it  not  be  such  as  that 

You  set  before  chance-comers, 
But  such  whose  father-grape  grew  fat 

On  Lusitanian  summers." 

Dreaming  over  his  glass  of  wine  the  poet 
sees  in  a  sudden  vision  the  prototype  of  the 
cock  who  once  brought  the  head-waiter  as 
a  round  country  boy  to  the  city,  to  the  great 
bewilderment  of  his  church-tower  colleagues 
who  witnessed  his  audacious  flight :  — 

"  His  brothers  of  the  weather  stood 
Stock-still  for  sheer  amazement." 
183 


n 

The  description  of  this  legendary  cock, 
inspired  evidently  by  the  beautiful  work  of 
Gibbon's  master-hand,  still  to  be  seen  in  the 
modern  Cock  Tavern  in  Fleet  Street,  might 
well  be  called  classical,  and  shall  not  be  with- 
held from  our  readers  :  — 

"  The  Cock  was  of  a  larger  egg 

Than  modern  poultry  drop, 
Stept  forward  on  a  firmer  leg, 

And  cramm'd  a  plumper  crop, 
Upon  an  ampler  dunghill  trod, 

Crow'd  lustier  late  and  early, 
Sipt  wine  from  silver,  praising  God, 

And  raked  in  golden  barley." 


Everybody  who  knows  and  loves  the  Swa- 
bian  poet  Morike,  the  music  for  whose  songs, 
composed  by  Hugo  Wolff,  have  become  the 

184 


n 

property  of  the  international  brotherhood 
of  music-lovers,  will  think  of  his  "Old 
Church-Tower  Cock,"  strangely  similar  in 
feeling  to  Tennyson's  poem  of  "  The  Cock  " 
and  his  brothers  of  the  weather. 

We  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  the  poets 
of  the  land  of  Wanderlust  give  special  atten- 
tion to  taverns  and  signs.  Besides  Morike, 
and  Uhland,  whose  "  Inn  "  we  quoted  above, 
Johann  Peter  Hebel,  a  son  of  the  Black 
Forest,  has  always  shown  a  special  predilec- 
tion for  the  sign  and  its  wonders.  In  an  un- 
translatable poem,  "  On  the  death  of  a  tip- 
pler," he  celebrates  his  man  as  a  diligent 
astronomer  who  never  tires  looking  for 
shining  "  Stars,"  a  brave  knight  always  ready 
to  hunt  up  "  Bears  "  and  "  Lions,"  a  pious 
Christian  willing  to  do  penitence  at  the 
"  Cross,"  a  man  who  frequented  the  best 
society,  including  "The  Three  Kings,"  his 
most  intimate  friends. 

Germany  may  boast,  too,  of  a  classical 
literary  tavern,  the  "  Bratwurstglockle "  in 
Nuremberg,  built  directly  against  the  walls 
of  a  church,  the  Gothic  Moritz-Kapelle. 
Among  its  famous  guests  were  the  Master- 
singer,  Hans  Sachs,  and  Durer,  Germany's 

185 


n 

greatest  artist.  Like  a  house  out  of  a  fairy 
tale  it  stands  before  us ;  we  are  only  sur- 
prised that  no  fence  of  sausages  surrounds  it 
and  that  its  door  and  window  shutters  are 
ordinary  wood  and  not  gingerbread ! 


CHAPTER    DC 
POLITICAL   SIGNS 


CHAPTER   IX 

POLITICAL  SIGNS 

"  Au-dessus  de  ma  tete,  Charles  Quint,  Joseph  II  ou  Napoleon 
pendus  a  une  vieillie  potence  en  fer  et  faisant  enseigne,  grands 
empereurs  qui  ne  sont  plus  bons  qu'a  achalander  une  auberge." 

VICTOR  HUGO,  Le  Rbin. 

AT  the  first  glance  our  peaceful  sign  seems 
to  have  nothing  to  do  with  politics  whatso- 
ever, except  perhaps  in  so  far  as  under  its 
symbol  the  Philistines  assemble,  not  only  to 
drink  and  be  merry,  but,  as  a  side-issue,  to 
solve  the  world's  problems.  The  contrast  of 
human  strife  and  battle  outside,  somewhere 
in  distant  lands,  with  the  undisturbed  com- 
fort of  the  tap-room  has  been  for  ages  one 
of  the  chief  fascinations  of  the  tavern,  and 
none  has  described  this  selfish  attitude  of  the 
Philistine  more  graphically  than  Goethe  in 
the  conversation  of  the  two  citizens  in  his 
"  Faust  ":- 

"  On  Sundays,  holidays,  there's  naught  I  take  delight  in, 
Like  gossiping  of  war,  and  war's  array. 
When  down  in  Turkey,  far  away, 
The  foreign  people  are  a-fighting. 
One  at  the  window  sits,  with  glass  and  friends, 
And  sees  all  sorts  of  ships  go  down  the  river  gliding : 
189 


(poftttcaf 

And  blesses  then,  as  home  he  wends 
At  night,  our  times  of  peace  abiding." 

This  opinion  the  other  citizen,  who  reminds 
us  curiously  of  certain  modern  neutrals,  ap- 
proves with  the  following  words:  — 

"Yes,  Neighbor!  that's  my  notion  too: 
Why,  let  them  break  their  heads,  let  loose  their  passions, 
And  mix  things  madly  through  and  through, 
So,  here,  we  keep  our  good  old  fashions !  " 

This  seems  about  all  the  political  wisdom  the 
tavern  sign  has  to  suggest ;  but  if  we  investi- 
gate more  closely  the  varying  forms  and  con- 
tinual changes  of  the  sign  we  shall  discover 
in  its  evolution  nothing  less  than  a  little  his- 
tory of  civilization  in  pictures.  Every  great 
event  in  the  world's  history  finds  its  echo  in 
some  transformation  of  the  sign,  that  proves 
itself  a  sensitive  indicator  for  the  popular 
valuation  of  leading  men  and  important  oc- 
currences. In  the  eagle-names  of  the  Roman 
signs  we  seem  to  hear  the  conquering  wings 
of  the  Roman  eagles  soaring  over  the  world, 
and  on  the  Cymbrian  shield  over  the  cock- 
tavern  on  the  Forum  we  read  the  pride  of 
the  victorious  Roman  soldier. 

In  our  chapter  on  "Heraldic  Signs"  we 
recognized  the  relationship  between  theland- 

190 


lords  and  the  ruling  powers.  The  swinging 
sign  of  a  "crown"  means  the  rule  of  kings, 
and  thankful  subjects  who  enjoy  the  peace 


secured  by  their  monarch  and  the  comfort 
of  settling  down  in  "The  Crown"  to  a  blessed 
meal.  It  means  good  times,  efficient  landlords 
and  easy  food-supply,  if  you  get  such  an  ex- 
cellent and  abundant  dinner  as  Heine  was 
offered  on  his  wanderings  through  the  Harz 

191 


by  the  tavern-keeper  of  "The  Crown "  in 
Klausthal :  "  My  repast  consisted  of  spring- 
green  parsley-soup,  violet-blue  cabbage,  a  pile 
of  roast  veal  which  resembled  Chimborazo 
in  miniature  and  a  sort  of  smoked  herrings, 
called  Buckings  from  their  inventor  William 
Bucking,  who  died  in  1447,  and  who,  on 
account  of  the  invention,  was  so  greatly  hon- 
ored by  Charles  V  that  the  great  monarch 
in  1556  made  a  journey  from  Middleburg 
to  Bievlied  in  Zealand  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  visiting  the  grave  of  the  great  fish- 
drier.  How  exquisitely  such  dishes  taste  when 
we  are  familiar  with  their  historical  associa- 
tions !" 

And  do  not  the  kings  themselves  appear 
on  the  sign?  The  "Three  Kings "  were  orig- 
inally the  "Wise  Men"  from  the  East. 
How  the  Catholic  Church  came  to  represent 
them  as  kings  we  read  in  Fischart's  quaint 
old  German  of  his  amusing  "  Bienenkorb " 
of  1 580  :  "  Und  das  sie  weiter  auss  den  treien 
Weisen  aus  Morgenland  trei  Konig  gemacht 
hat  und  den  eynen  so  Bechschwarz  als  eynen 
Moren,  ist  aus  den  Weissagungen  Salomonis 
oder  Davids  gefischet,  die  da  sagen,  dass  die 
Konig  aus  Morenland  Christum  anzubeten 

192 


kommen  werden."  The  East,  the  land  of 
the  morn,  was  thus  confused  with  the  land 
of  the  Moors  which  we  should  rather  seek 
to  the  south  of  Bethlehem.  On  "Three 
Kings'  Day,"  of  course,  the  taverns  of  this 
name  were  scenes  of  special  merriment,  the 
good  Catholics  joyfully  shouting,  "The  King 
drinks."  "  The  three  gentlemen,"  as  Carlyle 
calls  them  disrespectfully,  are  buried  in  the 
Cologne  Cathedral,  but  their  memory  is  hon- 
ored still  by  many  a  visitor  of  a  "Three 
Kings"  tavern  in  good  Rhenish  wine  which 
our  forefathers  called  the  theological  wine. 
We  find  the  sign  of  the  famous  travelers  from 
distant  lands  especially  on  the  great  roads  of 
commerce  leading  from  Italy  over  the  Alps, 
so  in  Augsburg  and  Basle.  Originally  a  roy- 
alist symbol  of  the  landlord's  loyalty  to  mon- 
archy, of  his  eagerness  to  serve  crowned  guests 
if  fortune  should  lead  them  his  way,  it  was 
changed  in  the  times  of  the  Revolution  to  the 
democratic  "Three  Moors,"  and  the  first 
landlord  who  is  said  to  have  deprived  his 
three  kings  of  their  crowns  was  the  landlord 
in  Basle.  Maybe  time  helped  him  to  make 
this  change,  slowly  wearing  away  the  gilded 
glitter  of  the  crowns  and  darkening  the  kings 

193 


to  black-a-moors.  To-day  the  famous  house 
in  Augsburg,  where  Charles  V  once  lodged 
as  guest  of  the  rich  banker  Fugger  for  more 
than  a  year,  is  called  "Three  Moors."  The 
traveler  still  may  see  the  big  fireplace  in  which 
the  generous  merchant  burned  all  the  impe- 
rial promissory  notes. 

But  whatever  the  explanation  of  this 
"Three  Moors'"  sign  may  be,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  Revolution  had  a  no- 
ticeable influence  on  signs  in  general.  The 
inn  "  Zum  Rosenkrantz  "  in  Strassburg  was 
called  after  1790  "  A  la  couronne  civile/'  to 
please  the  rationalistic  worshipers  of  the 
"  Supreme  Being/'  and  countless  king-signs 
were  sold  as  old  iron.  Sebastien  Mercier,  in 
his  "Tableau  de  Paris/'  has  given  a  merci- 
less report  of  this  great  catastrophe  which 
swept  away  so  many  of  the  signs  which  we 
have  learned  to  respect  and  to  love  :  "  Chez 
les  marchands  de  ferrailles  du  quai  de  la 
Megisserie,  sont  des  magazins  de  vieilles  en- 
seignes,  propre  a  decorer  1'entree  de  tous  les 
cabarets  et  tabagies  des  faubourgs  et  de  la 
banlieu  de  Paris.  L&  tous  les  rois  de  la  terre 
dorment  ensemble:  Louis  XVI  et  Georges 
III  se  baisent  fraternellement ;  le  roi  de 


Prusse  couche  avec  I'imperatrice  de  Russie, 
1'empereur  est  de  niveau  avec  les  electeurs; 
la  enfin  la  tiare  et  le  turban  se  confonde.  Un 
cabaretier  arrive,  remue  avec  le  pied  toutes 
ces  tetes  couronnees,  les  examine,  prend  au 
hasard  la  figure  du  roi  de  Pologne,  Temporte 
et  ecrit  dessous :  Au  grand  vainqueur.  Un 
autre  gargotier  demande  une  imperatrice ;  il 
veut  que  sa  gorge  soit  boursouflee,  et  le 
peintre,  sortant  de  la  taverne  voisine,  fait 
present  d'une  gorge  rebondie  a  toutes  les 
princesses  d'Europe.  Le  meme  peintre  coifFe 
d'une  couronne  de  laurier  une  tete  de  Louis 
XV  lui  ote  sa  perruque  et  sa  bourse,  et  voila, 
un  Cesar.  -  -  Toutes  ces  figures  royales  ont 
d'etranges  physionomies  et  font  eternelle- 
ment  la  moue  a  la  populace  qui  les  regarde. 
Aucun  de  ces  souverains  ne  sourit  au  peuple, 
meme  en  peinture ;  ils  ont  tous  Fair  hagard 
ou  burlesque,  des  yeux  erailles,  un  nez  de 
travers,  une  bouche  enorme.  .  .  ." 

We  see  those  were  bad  days  for  kings, 
even  for  painted  ones.  If  the  landlord  had 
Jacobin  blood  in  his  veins  he  would  not 
content  himself  with  such  harmless  changes 
as  removing  the  painted  crowns.  He  would 
call  his  tavern  no  longer  "  Le  Roi  Maure," 

195 


but  forthwith  "  Le  Roi  Mort,"  and  on  the 
sign  the  picture  of  the  dead  king  Louis  XVI 
would  testify  to  his  stanch  republicanism. 
Or  he  would  choose  as  sign-hero  Brutus  the 
famous  regicide.  Dickens  has  introduced 
us  to  such  a  tavern,  "  The  good  Republican 
Brutus/'  in  the  "Tale  of  Two  Cities/1  and 
his  picture  of  the  place,  although  in  a  book 
of  fiction,  shows  clearly  the  colors  of  his- 
torical truth  :  "  It  had  a  quieter  look  than 
any  other  place  of  the  same  description  they 
had  passed,  and  though  red  with  patriotic 
caps  was  not  so  red  as  the  rest/'  The  guests 
were  a  rather  suspicious-looking  crowd.  One 
workman  with  bare  breast  and  arms  reads 
aloud  the  latest  terrible  news  to  the  rest  who 
listen  attentively.  All  are  armed,  some  have 
laid  their  weapons  aside  to  be  resumed,  if 
needed.  In  the  classical  chapter  «The 
Wine-Shop/'  where  he  describes  the  hope- 
less misery  of  the  poor  people  crowded  to- 
gether in  the  narrow  streets  of  the  St.  An- 
toine  quarter,  he  sees  even  in  the  merchants' 
signs  symbols  of  misery  or  threats  of  future 
atrocities :  "  The  trade-signs  (and  they  were 
almost  as  many  as  the  shops)  were  all  grim 
illustrations  of  Want.  The  butcher  and  the 

196 


porkman  painted  up,  only  the  leanest  scraps 
of  meat,  the  baker  the  coarsest  of  meager 
loaves.  The  people  rudely  pictured  as  drink- 
ing in  the  wine-shops  croaked  over  their 
scanty  measures  of  thin  wine  and  beer.  .  .  . 
Nothing  was  represented  in  a  flourishing  con- 
dition, save  tools  and  weapons ;  but  the  cut- 
ler's knives  and  axes  were  sharp  and  bright, 


the  smith's  hammers  were  heavy,  and  the 
gunmaker's  stock  was  murderous/' 

It  was  in  a  tavern  in  Varennes  that  the  fate 
of  Louis  XVI  was  sealed.   Here  the  fugitive 

197 


king  was  arrested  and  forced  to  go  back  to 
Paris  to  pay  with  his  blood  the  debt  of 
sins  which  his  ancestors  had  accumulated. 
"  Forty-eight  years  after  the  royal  coach  was 
stopped  in  this  town,"  says  Victor  Hugo,  "  I 
saw  hanging  from  an  old  iron  bracket  the 
picture  of  Louis  Philippe  with  the  inscrip- 
tion : '  Au  grand  Monarque.' 3  Nowhere  do 
we  observe  quicker  changes  than  in  govern- 
ments and  tavern  signs,  remarks  the  Ger- 
man tramp-poet  Seume;  and  Victor  Hugo 
indulges  in  similar  reflections,  passing  in  re- 
view the  signs  of  the  last  one  hundred  years 
from  Louis  XV  to  Bonaparte  and  Charles  X  : 
"  Louis  XVI  s'est  peut-etre  arrete  au  Grand 
Monarque,  et  s'est  vu  la  peint  en  enseigne, 
roi  en  peinture  lui-meme. —  Pauvre  *  Grand 
Monarque  ? ' : '  he  exclaims  in  pathetic  pity. 
This  supposition  of  Hugo's,  however,  is  not 
correct,  as  we  learn  from  Carlyle,  who,  scru- 
tinizing with  the  prophetic  vision  of  a  poet 
the  darkness  of  the  past,  possessed  at  the  same 
time  the  exactness  and  sincerity  of  a  true 
historian  and  who  has  given  us,  based  on  a 
personal  visit  to  the  locality,  the  following 
description  of  the  nocturnal  scene :  "  The 
village  of  Varennes  lies  dark  and  slumberous 

198 


a  mostunlevel  Village  of  inverse  saddle-shape, 
as  men  write.  It  sleeps ;  the  rushing  of  the 
River  Aire  singing  lullaby  to  it.  Neverthe- 
less from  the  Golden  Arm,  Bras  d'or  Tavern 
across  that  sloping  Marketplace,  there  still 
comes  shine  of  social  light.  .  .  ." 

Even  the  American  Revolution  left  its 
traces  on  the  tavern  signs  of  the  Yankeeland. 
The  old  Baptist  pastor  and  Professor  of  The- 
ology, Galusha  Anderson,  who  has  given  us, 
in  his  charming  book,  "When  Neighbors 
were  Neighbors/'  in  his  simple  way  a  kind 
of  social  history  of  the  early  United  States, 
mentions  signs  that  he  saw  in  his  youth 
"  where  the  English  red-coats  were  repre- 
sented flying  before  our  revolutionary  fore- 
fathers/' And  Washington  Irving  has  given 
us,  in  his  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  a  classical  ex- 
ample of  the  political  changes  the  signboard 
had  to  undergo.  When  this  curious  dreamer 
and  unhappy  husband,  after  many  years  of 
mysterious  absence,  came  back  to  his  native 
village,  nothing  perhaps  surprised  him  so 
much  as  to  find  on  the  old  tavern  the  strange 
words,  "The  Union  Hotel,  by  Jonathan 
Doolittle,"  and  to  see  even  the  good  old  sign 
strangely  altered :  "  He  recognised  on  the 

199 


sign,  however,  the  ruby  face  of  King  George, 
under  which  he  had  smoked  so  many  a  peace- 
ful pipe;  but  even  this  was  singularly  meta- 
morphosed. The  red  coat  was  changed  for 
one  of  blue  and  buff,  a  sword  was  held  instead 
of  a  sceptre,  the  head  was  decorated  with 
a  cocked  hat,  and  underneath  was  painted 
in  large  characters,  General  Washington/' 
Thus  he  received  from  the  signboard  the 
necessary  instruction  on  the  great  changes 
that  had  taken  place  during  his  absence,  how 
his  country  had  developed  from  an  English 
Colony  to  a  free  Republic. 

There  are  still  a  few  signs  in  existence 
that  might  give  us  an  idea  how  such  old 
American  signs  probably  looked.  We  refer 
especially  to  the  "  Governor  Hancock  "  sign 
in  the  old  Boston  State  House  and  a  couple 
of  amusing  signs  in  the  little  historical  mu- 
seum at  Lexington. 

In  its  long  political  career  the  sign  was 
not  spared  the  humiliation  of  being  used  as 
gallows.  One  of  the  first  victims  of  the 
French  Revolution  was  Foulon.  He  was 
charged  with  making  the  people  eat  grass; 
and  now  a  raging  mob  forced  into  his  dead 
mouth  the  food  he  had  proposed  for  others. 

200 


According  to  tradition  this  old  sinner  was 
hanged  to  a  lantern  on  the  corner  of  the 
Place  de  la  Greve  and  the  Rue  de  la  Van- 
nerie.  But  this  is  contradicted  by  such  an  old 
Parisian  as  Victorien  Sardou,  who  says  that 
Foulon  was  hanged  to  a  sign  which,  as  he 
remembers  well  from  his  childhood  days, 
was  still  to  be  seen,  under  Louis  Philippe, 
although  nobody  really  seemed  to  give  atten- 
tion to  it  in  those  days  of  Romanticism. 

Another  gruesome  story  we  are  told  by 
Macaulay,  how  under  James  II,  after  the  de- 
feat of  the  unhappy  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
the  partisans  of  the  pretender  were  sus- 
pended from  a  signpost  before  a  tavern  in 
Taunton  by  order  of  a  certain  Colonel  Percy 
Kirke.  "They  were  not  suffered  even  to 
take  leave  of  their  nearest  relations.  The 
signpost  of  the  White  Hart  Inn  served  for 
a  gallows.  It  is  said  that  the  work  of  death 
went  on  in  sight  of  the  windows  where  the 
officers  of  the  Tangier  regiment  were  ca- 
rousing, and  that  at  every  health  a  wretch 
was  turned  off.  When  the  legs  of  the  dying 
men  quivered  in  the  last  agony,  the  colonel 
ordered  the  drums  to  strike  up.  He  would 
give  the  rebels,  he  said,  music  to  their  danc- 

201 


ing.  The  tradition  runs  that  one  of  the  cap- 
tives was  not  even  allowed  the  indulgence 
of  a  speedy  death.  Twice  he  was  suspended 
from  the  signpost,  and  twice  cut  down. 
Twice  he  was  asked  if  he  repented  of  his 
treason,  and  twice  he  replied  that  if  the  deed 
were  to  do  again,  he  would  do  it.  Then  he 
was  tied  up  for  the  last  time." 

The  Chief  Justice  and  Lord  Chancellor 
Jeffreys,  who  continued  the  work  of  perse- 
cution against  the  partisans  of  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth,  —  the  man  whose  Bloody  As- 
sizes will  not  be  easily  forgotten  in  England, 
—  once  nearly  paid  with  his  life  the  foolish 
desire  to  climb  up  on  a  signpost  in  a  happy 
hour  of  complete  intoxication.  After  a  wild 
orgy  in  company  with  the  Lord  Treasurer, 
he  and  his  companion  decided  to  undress  until 
they  were  "  almost  stark  naked  "  and  to  drink 
the  king's  health  from  the  airy  height  of  a 
signpost.  Jeffreys  took  a  severe  cold  and 
alarmed  not  a  little  the  king,  who  feared  the 
irreparable  loss  of  such  a  valuable  servant. 

After  the  uncanny  stories  of  the  signpost's 
function  as  a  gallows,  we  find  a  certain  com- 
fort in  hearing  that  the  sign  occasionally 
offered  a  refuge  to  persecuted  political  of- 

202 


fenders.  In  the  days  of  the  Corsican,  the  par- 
tisans of  the  Bourbons,  called  by  the  beau- 
tiful name  of  "  Chouans,"  were  happy  to 
find  such  a  refuge,  "  une  cache  fameuse," 
behind  the  big  sign  of  the  perfumer  Caron. 
The  persecuted  Chouan  had  only  to  step  out 
through  a  window  and  to  close  the  blinds 
behind  him  and  he  was  perfectly  safe  against 
the  detectives  of  Fouche,  the  chief  of  the 
police.  If  the  fugitive,  however,  made  a 
blunder  and  stepped  by  mistake  into  the  bar- 
ber shop  of  M.  Teissier,  he  was  undone;  be- 
cause this  was  the  man  who  had  the  honor 
of  shaving  the  Caesarean  face  of  Napoleon. 

Before  the  French  Revolution  another 
great  event  in  the  world's  history  had  pro- 
duced considerable  changes  on  the  signboard 
—  the  Reformation.  We  have  already  no- 
ticed how  the  new  ideas  and  motives  of 
the  Renaissance  influenced,  not  only  the 
sculptured  frame  of  the  sign,  but  created 
new  forms,  such  as  th6  Dolphin,  the  Siren, 
the  Pegasus,  the  Sagittary,  Fortuna,  Apollo, 
Phoenix,  Minerva,  Hercules,  Castor  and 
Pollux,  Bacchus,  all  favorite  themes  of  this 
classical  period.  The  discovery  of  America 
at  the  same  time  brought  the  "  Wild  Man  " 

203 


into  great  popularity,  and  the  newly  intro- 
duced tobacco,  "  the  filthy  weed,"  caused 
the  creation  of  countless  Indian  and  Huron 
signs,  "  black-a-moors  and  other  dusky  for- 
eigners. " 

The  Reformation  itself  had  a  more  nega- 
tive effect  on  the  sign.  It  tried  to  eliminate 
or  to  change  the  old  saint  signs.  Cromwell  in 
England  declaimed  against  Catholic-sounding 
tavern  names.  "St.  Catherine  and  Wheel" 
was  changed  to  "  Cat  and  Wheel/'  and  de- 
generated further  into  "  Cat  and  Fiddle,"  a 
sign  still  popular  in  England  and  celebrated 
in  the  famous  children's  rhyme :  — 

"  Heigh  diddle  diddle, 
The  cat  and  the  fiddle." 

On  some  signs  the  fiddling  cat  inspires 
with  its  music  a  cow  to  jump  in  ecstasy  over 
a  grinning  moon.  Thus  we  see  everywhere 
the  old  religious  motives  and  symbols  turned 
into  ridicule  and  blasphemy.  This  process 
began  at  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  the 
study  of  miniatures  and  of  cathedral  sculp- 
tures will  amply  prove.  We  cannot  be  sur- 
prised, therefore,  to  find  such  anti-papal  signs 
as  "  Le  cochon  mitre  "  in  Compiegne.  The 

204 


mediaeval  illuminators  and  sculptors  loved  to 
"hommifier"  the  swine  and  to  attack  under 
this  disguise  hypocritical  and  voluptuous 
priests.  In  the  "Doctrinal  rurale"  of  Pierre 
Michault  of  1486  (in  the  National  Library 
at  Paris),  we  see  a  fat  monk  in  the  peda- 
gogue's chair,  representing  "concupiscence/* 
and  evidently  making  such  shocking  remarks 
that  his  girl  pupils  put  their  fingers  in  their 
ears,  while  in  the  delicate  framework  of  the 
miniature  a  preaching  swine  reveals  the  real 
character  of  this  strange  teacher. 

The  touching  scene  of  the  "  Salutatio," 
which  inspired  the  artists  of  the  Renaissance 
with  such  noble  creations  as  Donatello's  mar- 
ble relief  in  Florence,  is  degraded  now  to  a 
ridiculous  bowing  and  scraping  between  a 
lady  and  her  partner  or  between  two  stylish 
gentlemen.  The  fanatical  Puritans  who  thun- 
dered even  against  the  harmless  Christmas 
customs,  so  dear  to  the  people,  of  course 
took  offense  at  the  use  of  the  cross  for  a 
sign  and  in  1643  forced  the  landlord  of  the 
"  Golden  Cross/'  in  the  Strand,  London,  to 
take  his  "superstitious  and  idolatrous"  sign 
down.  It  is  a  curious  irony  of  fate  that 
Cromwell,  who  to  the  present  day  is  made 

205 


responsible  for  nearly  all  destructions  in  Eng- 
lish cathedrals  and  who  probably  was  an 
enemy,  not  only  of  Catholic  but  of  all  signs, 
was  himself  made  an  object  of  the  signboard. 

In  England  more  than  anywhere  else  the 
sign  stands  for  heroes  and  hero-worship.  Peter 
the  Great  and  his  visit  to  London  were  re- 
membered in  "The  Czar's  Head";  English 
admirals  and  great  generals  like  Wellington 
and  the  Prussian  King  Frederic,  "the  great 
Protestant  hero,"  all  receive  "signboard- 
honors."  London  possessed  still  in  1881 
thirty-seven  "  Duke  of  Wellington"  taverns. 

No  less  patriotic  are  the  Dutch  sign-paint- 
ers, who  love  to  picture  their  own  celebrities 
Rembrandt,  Ruysdael,  or  Erasmus  of  Rotter- 
dam and  the  beloved  Princes  of  Orange.  One 
of  them,  the  future  King  William  III  of  Eng- 
land, we  find  even  as  a  boy  on  a  signboard 
with  the  inimitable  Dutch  inscription:  — 

"  God  laat  hem  worden  groot 
Bewaar  hem  voor  de  doot 

Dat  Kleine  Manje." 

But  other  "  merkwaardige  Personen,"  great 
men  of  other  nations,  too,  receive  their  share 
of  this  popular  homage :  Frederic  the  Great, 
Schiller,  Gustavus  Adolphus,  and  even  old 

206 


Cicero.  Sometimes  the  popularity  of  a  hero 
passes  quickly.  The  English  Admiral  Ver- 
non  had  hardly  received  signboard  honors 
when  he  had  to  yield  his  place  to  Frederic, 
the  "Glorious  Protestant  Hero,"  as  he  was 
called  after  the  battle  of  Rossbach.  As  a  rule, 
a  few  changes  in  the  costume  of  the  portrait 
were  considered  sufficient  by  the  landlord, 
who  rarely  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  an  en- 
tirely new  picture  for  the  new  hero.  To  the 
English  statesman,  Horace  Walpole,  these 
rapid  changes  on  the  signboard  suggested  the 
following  melancholy  remarks:  "I  pondered 
these  things  in  my  breast  and  said  to  myself, 
*  Surely  all  glory  is  but  as  a  sign ! ' 

The  French  people  were  more  loyal  to 
their  Bonaparte  signs,  long  after  the  beloved 
emperor  had  been  dethroned.  For  a  long 
time  the  "napoleonisme  cabaretier"  refused 
to  capitulate,  says  Carteret.  In  the  country 
even  serious  fights  were  sometimes  caused  by 
the  signs  of  the  Imperialists,  who  ten  years 
after  Waterloo  showed  still  the  famous  words, 
"La  garde  meurt  et  ne  se  rend  pas,"  or  rep- 
resented the  meeting  of  Napoleon  and  Fred- 
eric with  the  inscription,  "  Le  soleil  luit  pour 
tous  les  heros."  A  tavern-keeper  near  Cannes, 

207 


where  Napoleon  landed  on  his  return  from 
Elba,  to  reconquer  France,  honored  the  mem- 
ory of  the  great  man  who  rested  in  his  inn 
with  the  words:  — 

"  Chez  moi  c'est  repose  Napoleon, 
Venez  ^boire  et  celebrer  son  nom !  " 

On  the  other  hand,  we  find  the  men  who 
delivered  their  country  from  the  yoke  of  the 
Corsican  equally  honored  in  signs;  the  tav- 
ern in  which  these  great  men  had  rested  were 
for  a  long  time  held  sacred  by  the  people. 
"In  Innsbruck,  in  the  'Golden  Eagle/  "  we 
read  in  Heine's  " Reisebilder,"  "where  An- 
dreas Hofer  had  lodged,  and  where  every  cor- 
ner is  still  filled  with  his  portraits  and  memen- 
toes, I  asked  the  landlord,  if  he  knew  anything 
of  the  'Sandwirth/  Then  the  old  gentleman 
boiled  over  with  eloquence.  .  .  ." 

To  our  great  astonishment,  we  find  even 
the  idea  of  an  invasion  on  old  English  tavern 
signs.  We  know  well  this  fear  of  invasion  is 
nothing  new  with  our  cousins.  "Down  the 
northeast  wind  the  sea-thieves  were  always 
coming.  England  should  always  beware  of 
the  northeast  wind.  It  blows  her  no  good," 
—  that  is  the  lesson  the  English  school-chil- 

208 


dren  already  learn  in  such  books  as  C.  R.  L. 
Fletcher's  "History  of  England"  (Oxford, 
1911),  to  which  Rudyard  Kipling  has  con- 
tributed most  passionate  songs  of  patriotism. 
As  early  as  1 75  3  the  English  had  the  black  sus- 
picion that  Frederic  the  Great  might  land  fif- 
teen thousand  of  his  Spartan  Prussian  soldiers 
on  their  coast,  as  if  he  just  then  had  nothing 
else  to  do.  Carlyle  has  refuted  these  suspicions 
as  ridiculous:  "King  Friedrich  distinguished 
himself  by  the  grand  human  virtue  of  keep- 
ing well  at  home  —  of  always  minding  his 
own  affairs/'  In  these  days  of  the  Entente 
Cordiale  and  its  result  the  World- War,  the 
south  wind,  blowing  from  France,  is  entirely 
forgotten,  but  nevertheless  it  is  just  there  that 
the  most  serious  preparations  for  an  invasion 
of  England  have  been  made  repeatedly.  In 
the  year  1756  the  cry  resounded:  "If  France 
land  on  us,  we  are  undone";  and  in  1759 
Admiral  Conflans  actually  attempted  to  exe- 
cute the  idea  with  eighteen  thousand  men, 
but  the  enterprise  failed  completely,  "not  on 
the  shores  of  Britain,  but  of  Brittany."  Under 
Napoleon  the  danger  increased,  but  after  Nel- 
son's victory  of  Trafalgar,  Napoleon  had  to 
abandon  his  maritime  plans.  The  regained 

209 


feeling  of  security  was  manifested  in  many 
caricatures  mocking  Napoleon,  among  which 
we  have  to  reckon  the  sign  "Old  Bona- 
parte." Using  the  familiar  motive  of  "The 
ass  in  the  bandbox, "  the  sign-painter  repre- 
sents the  French  Emperor  riding  on  a  don- 
key and  sailing  in  a  bandbox  over  the  Chan- 
nel to  fight  "Perfidious  Albion." 

In  this  connection  we  ask  permission  to 
tell  the  story  of  another  donkey-sign.  Jo- 
seph II,  Emperor  of  the  old  German  Em- 
pire, whom  we  might  call  the  "  traveling 
Kaiser"  of  the  eighteenth  century,  loved  to 
put  up  at  simple  inns ;  even  when  he  was 
invited  by  Frederic  the  Great,  at  their  first 
interview  in  Neisse,  to  lodge  in  the  castle, 
he  preferred  the  liberty  of  having  his  ease 
at  "The  Three  Kings."  Once,  in  Maes- 
tricht,  he  stopped  at  a  hotel  called  "  The 
Gray  Donkey,"  and  gave  the  landlord  as 
proof  of  his  complete  satisfaction  the  privi- 
lege to  call  his  house  hereafter  "  Kaiser 
Joseph  "  and  to  paint  on  his  sign  the  eques- 
trian portrait  of  his  noble  guest.  But  the 
Dutch  customers  did  not  recognize  their 
old  tavern  under  such  a  glorious  name,  and 
the  landlord  was  finally  obliged  to  put  under 

210 


the  imperial  picture  the  odd  words  :  "  The 
Real  Gray  Donkey."  Duke  Charles  of 
Wiirttemberg,  who  knew  this  fancy  of  the 
Emperor,  once  pleased  him  enormously  by 
hanging  a  big  sign,  "  Hotel  de  1'Empereur," 
out  over  the  portal  of  his  castle  in  Stutt- 
gart, himself  receiving  the  imperial  visitor 
in  the  humble  costume  of  an  obedient  land- 
lord. 

More  serious  political  events  are  equally 
reflected  in  the  history  of  the  sign.  When 
Richard  III  lost  throne  and  life  at  Bosworth 
in  1485,  the  Black  Bears,  the  heraldic  ani- 
mals of  his  royal  escutcheon,  disappeared 
from  the  tavern  sign  and  were  replaced  by 
the  Blue  Bear  of  the  Count  of  Oxford.  It 
was  even  a  dangerous  thing  in  those  days  to 
play  with  the  seemingly  harmless  sign.  A 
landlord  of  a  Crown  inn,  who  once  said 
jokingly  that  he  intended  to  make  his  son 
the  heir  of  the  crown,  was  accused  of  high 
treason  and  had  to  suffer  death  in  1467.  An- 
other sign,  still  popular  in  England,  "  The 
Royal  Oak,"  came  into  vogue  after  the  re- 
storation of  Charles  II,  because  it  reminded 
the  good  people  of  the  oak  in  which  the 
persecuted  king  had  found  a  shelter  against 

211 


his  enemies.  When  Charles  I's  proud  head 
fell,  a  day  after  his  execution  "  The  Crown  " 
of  the  poet  tavern-keeper  Taylor,  who  pos- 
sessed the  courage  of  his  conviction,  ap- 
peared veiled  in  black. 

The  sign  in  mourning  occurs  again,  but 
this  time  for  a  very  frivolous  reason.  In 
1736  the  tavern-keepers,  disgusted  with  the 
"  New  Act  against  spirituous  liquors,"  cov- 
ered their  signs  with  "'deep  mourning  "  as 
symbol  of  protest.  That  this  law  had  not 
been  too  severe  is  evidenced  by  Hogarth's 
engraving  "  Gin  Lane/'  published  fifteen 
years  later,  where  we  read  over  a  tavern  the 
disgusting  announcement :  "  Here  gentle- 
men and  others  can  get  drunk  for  a  penny, 
dead  drunk  for  twopence." 

Macaulay  has  pointed  out  the  great  im- 
portance of  public-houses  as  political  meet- 
ing-grounds. Party  congresses  of  the  Lib- 
erals were  held  in  the  early  day  in  "  The 
Rose,"  but  in  general  the  Whigs  preferred 
places  that  had  a  punchbowl  on  their  sign, 
punch  being  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century  not  only  a  very  popular  beverage, 
but  decidedly  a  "  Whig  drink,"  while  the 
Tories  drank  mostly  —  noblesse  oblige  —  wine 

212 


or  champagne.  We  find  the  punchbowl 
either  alone  or  in  more  or  less  logical 
combinations,  as  "  Ship  and  Punchbowl," 
"  Parrot  and  Punchbowl,"  "  Half-Moon  and 
Punchbowl,"  and  the  like. 

An  old  American  sign,  "  The  Federal 
Punch,"  is  evidently  a  revised  edition  of  the 
Whig  sign  of  the  mother  country.  The 
business  of  imbibing  the  party  drink  was 
not  forgotten  in  these  political  meetings.  In 
fact,  the  Tories  attended  to  it  one  time  so 
thoroughly  in  their  Apollo  Tavern  in  Fleet 
Street  that  they  were  unable  to  execute 
their  own  decision  to  go  "in  a  body"  to 
King  William  to  present  him  an  address  of 
thanks.  "  They  were  induced  to  forego  their 
intention;  and  not  without  cause:  for  a 
great  crowd  of  squires  after  a  revel,  at  which 
doubtless  neither  October  nor  claret  had 
been  spared,  might  have  caused  some  incon- 
venience in  the  present  chamber."  Finally 
they  decided  to  send  as  their  representative 
an  elderly  country  gentleman  who  was,  for 
a  wonder,  still  sober. 

Beside  these  respectable  meeting-places 
of  the  two  great  parties  there  were  "  treason 
taverns,"  suspicious  ale-houses,  where  plot- 

213 


ters  and  hired  murderers,  not  without  the 
encouragement  of  the  exiled  king  James  II, 
forged  their  black  plans  against  the  life  of 
William,  the  Prince  of  Orange.  One  of 
these  places  had  the  fitting  name  "  The 


Dog"  in  Drury  Lane,  "a  tavern  which  was 
frequented  by  lawless  and  desperate  men." 

We  will  end  our  enumeration  of  politically 
important  taverns  with  the  "Cadran  Bleu" 
in  Paris,  where  the  Marseillais  were  greeted 
by  the  Parisians  after  they  had  completed 
their  long  journey  across  the  whole  of 
France,  singing  for  the  first  time  the  famous 
song  of  the  Revolution :  "  Marchez,  abattez 

214 


le  tyran."  "  Patriot  clasps  dusty  patriot  to 
his  bosom,  there  is  footwashing  and  reflec- 
tion :  dinner  of  twelve  hundred  covers  at  the 
Blue  Dial,  Cadran  Bleu." 

To  the  present  day  the  right  to  assemble 
freely  in  the  tavern,  "this  temple  of  true  lib- 
erty/' is  suspiciously  guarded  by  all  parties. 
To  the  present  day  the  tavern  serves  all 
kinds  of  political  and  social  clubs  and  some- 
times even  burial  societies  similar  to  those 
of  which  Washington  Irving  has  told  us 
such  amusing  stories,  as  "  The  Swan  and 
Horseshoe"  and  "  Cock  and  Crown,"  once 
flourishing  in  the  heart  of  London,  in  Little 
Britain. 


CHAPTER    X 

TRAVELING  WITH  GOETHE  AND 
FREDERIC   THE  GREAT 


ietigfeim,  Tfcutttemfierg 


CHAPTER  X 

TRAVELING  WITH  GOETHE  AND 
FREDERIC  THE  GREAT 

"  Ici  toute  liberte,  Monsieur,  comme  si  nous  etions  au  cabaret. ' ' 

FREDERIC  THE  GREAT. 

THERE  is  a  surprising  parallelism  between 
the  fathers  of  these  two  greatest  men  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  These  fathers,  whom 
narrow-minded  critics  usually  call  pedants, 
transmitted  to  their  sons  the  great  gift  of 
"life's  serious  conduct/'  Rarely  has  the  old 
Councillor  Goethe  found  so  much  just  ap- 
preciation as  Carlyle  has  shown  for  Frederic 
William  I.  The  character  of  both  the  sons 
constitutes  a  happy  combination  of  this  seri- 
ous paternal  heritage  and  the  joyful  element 
of  sanguine  optimism.  Both,  although  they 
owe  perhaps  most  to  their  fathers,  feel  them- 
selves drawn  to  the  softer  natures  of  their 
mothers,  who  hardly  ever  refused  them  any 
wish.  And  most  of  us  prefer  to  share  with 
them  the  love  of  their  charming  mothers, 
Frau  Rath  and  Sophie  Dorothea,  —  because 
it  is  always  more  agreeable  to  be  loved  than 

219 


to  be  educated,  —  and  reserve  for  the  fathers 
at  best  a  cool  esteem. 

Travel  for  pleasure  or  sport  was  unknown 
to  the  old  Spartan  King  of  Prussia,  as  indeed 
it  was  to  his  greater  son,  who  did  not  even 
appreciate  the  sport  of  hunting.  When  they 
traveled  it  was  for  the  inspection  of  the  ad- 
ministration of  their  country  or  to  review 
their  troops.  Old  Frederic  William,  in  his 
great  simplicity,  preferred  even  to  pass  the 
night  in  airy  barns  than  to  sleep  in  stuffy 
rooms.  "  Dinner-table  to  be  spread  always 
in  some  airy  place,  garden-house,  tent,  big 
clean  barn,  —  Majesty  likes  air,  of  all  things; 
—  will  sleep  too,  in  a  clean  barn  or  garden- 
house  :  better  anything  than  being  stifled, 
thinks  his  Majesty."  We  never  hear  that  he 
stopped  at  inns,  and  Frederic,  too,  we  meet 
only  rarely  in  taverns,  once  in  Braunschweig 
in  Korn's  Hotel,  where  he  was  received  one 
night  in  the  Freemasons'  lodge  very  secretly 
because  his  severe  papa  despised  such  child- 
ish fooleries  utterly.  Occasionally,  perhaps, 
while  in  Potsdam  he  visits  inns  like  "  The 
Three  Crowns,"  where  one  could  find  bet- 
ter food,  he  says,  than  at  the  table  of  his 
Mecklenburg  cousins  in  their  castle  Mirow. 

220 


In  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  when  he  trav- 
eled incognito  to  French  Alsace,  he  had  very 
distressing  experiences  in  different  taverns. 
In  a  letter  to  Voltaire  he  describes  in  French 
verses  the  various  accidents  of  this  trip  :  — 

"  Avec  de  coursiers  efflanques 
En  ligne  droite  issus  de  Rosinante, 
Et  des  paysans  en  postilions  masques, 
Butors  de  race  impertinente, 
Notre  carosse  en  cent  lieux  accroche, 
Nous  allions  gravement,  d'une  allure  indolente, 
Gravitant  centre  les  rochers." 

Traveling  all  day  in  the  worst  of  weathers, 
as  if  the  last  day  of  judgment  had  come,  and 
in  the  evening  to  get  a  poor  meal  in  a  mis- 
erable tavern  —  and  a  large  bill :  — 

"  Car  des  hotes  interesses 
De  la  faim  nous  voyant  presses, 
D'une  facon  plus  que  frugale 
Dans  une  chaumiere  infernale 
En  nous  empoisonnant,  nous  volaient  nos  ecus. 
O  siecle  different  des  temps  de  Lucullus  !  " 

The  landlord  of  the  "Post"  in  Kehl  de- 
mands passes  from  Frederic  and  his  compan- 
ions, and  Frederic  fabricates  them  himself 
with  his  Prussian  seal.  Again  in  Strassburg 
they  present  the  same  passes  to  the  custom 
officials,  not  without  adding  a  gold  coin :  — 

221 


"  L'or,  plus  dieu  que  Mars  et  PAmour, 
Le  meme  or  sut  nous  introduire, 
Le  soir,  dans  les  murs  de  Strassbourg." 

Here  they  stop  at  "  The  Raven/'  where 
Frederic  immediately  began  to  study  the 
French  people.  His  judgment  is  not  very 
flattering,  although  he  communicates  it  to 
his  French  friend:  — 

"  Non,  des  vils  Frangais  vous  n'etes  pas  du  nombre, 
Vous  pensez,  ils  ne  pensent  point." 

In  the  evening  he  invites  even  French  offi- 
cers to  dine  with  him  and  the  following  morn- 
ing goes  to  a  military  review.  Here  one  of  his 
own  soldiers,  a  Prussian  deserter,  "  un  mal- 
heureux  pendard,"  recognizes  him;  he  quickly 
hurries  back  to  "The  Raven,"  pays  his  bill, 
and  leaves  Strassburg,  never  to  see  it  again. 
Like  the  old  king,  Frederic  preferred  to 
stop  in  rectories  when  traveling  through  the 
Prussian  lands,  but  sometimes  was  prevented 
from  doing  so  by  his  very  faithful  but  very 
independent  coachman  Pfund.  If  the  pastor 
had  forgotten  to  give  this  important  person 
his  due  tip  on  the  last  visit,  Pfund  would 
surely  cut  him  on  future  occasions,  and  force 
his  old  master  to  go  on  to  the  next  town, 
where  he  was  sure  to  find  a  host  of  better 

222 


manners.  This  sin  of  omission  was  rarely 
committed  by  pastors  who  received  the  honor 
of  a  royal  visit,  because  they  could  very  well 
afford  to  humor  old  Pfund  a  little,  when 
they  themselves  received  from  the  otherwise 
economical  king  the  handsome  "royalty" 
of  fifty  dollars  for  a  dinner  and  one  .hundred 
dollars  for  dinner  and  a  night's  lodging. 
General  von  der  Marwitz  has  told  us  the 
story  of  how  Pfund  once  opposed  the  king, 
who  was  tired  and  wanted  to  stop  in  the  rec- 
tory of  Dolgelin,  by  saying  the  sun  was  not 
yet  down  and  they  could  well  reach  the  next 
town,  and  how  the  old  king  patiently  sub- 
mitted to  the  will  of  his  Automedon.  But 
there  is  a  limit  even  to  the  patience  of  old 
kings,  and  on  one  occasion,  when  Pfund 
went  too  far  in  his  rudeness,  Frederic  re- 
belled, and,  to  teach  his  coachman  morals, 
ordered  him  forthwith  to  cart  manure  and 
fagots  with  a  team  of  donkeys.  After  a  year 
the  king  happened  to  meet  him,  busily  en- 
gaged in  his  new  and  modest  occupation, 
and  kindly  inquired :  "  How  d'ye  do  ?  "  The 
coachman's  classic  answer  August  Kopisch 
has  celebrated  in  a  song  which  we  venture 
to  translate :  — 

223 


"'Well,  if  I  can  drive/  says  Pound, 
On  his  box  quite  firm  and  round, 
'  I  do  not  care 
How  I  fare, 

If  with  horses  or  with  asses,  carting 
Fagots  or  His  Majesty  the  King.' 

"  Then  old  Frederic,  taking  snuff, 
Looked*at  Pound  and  told  the  rough  : 
4  Well,  if  you  don't  care 

How  you  really  fare, 

If  with  horses  or  with  asses,  logs  or  kings  you  cart, 
Quick  unload,  drive  ME  again,  and  take  a  start ! ' : 

Goethe's  father,  although  himself  the  son 
of  a  landlord,  disliked  inns  and  public-houses 
very  keenly,  as  we  read  in  Goethe's  auto- 
biography, "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit  "  : 
"This  feeling  had  rooted  itself  firmly  in  him 
on  his  travels  through  Italy,  France,  and 
Germany.  Although  he  seldom  spoke  in 
images,  and  only  called  them  to  his  aid  when 
he  was  very  cheerful,  yet  he  used  often  to 
repeat  that  he  always  fancied  he  saw  a  great 
cobweb  spun  across  the  gate  of  an  inn,  so  in- 
geniously that  the  insects  could  indeed  fly 
in  but  that  even  the  privileged  wasps  could 
not  fly  out  again  unplucked.  It  seemed  to 
him  something  horrible,  that  one  should  be 
obliged  to  pay  immoderately  for  renounc- 

224 


ing  one's  habits  and  all  that  was  dear  to  one 
in  life  and  living  after  the  manner  of  pub- 
licans and  waiters.  He  praised  the  hospitality 
of  the  olden  time,  and  reluctantly  as  he  other- 
wise endured  even  anything  unusual  in  the 
house,  he  yet  practiced  hospitality.  .  .  ." 
This  excessive  aversion  to  all  inns  the  great 
son  inherited  from  his  father,  although  he 
admitted  it  was  a  weakness.  We  are  there- 
fore not  surprised  to  see  the  student  Goethe, 
when  he  for  the  first  time  traveled  full  of 
longing  to  Dresden  in  the  yellow  coach,  lodge 
in  the  modest  quarters  of  a  philosophical 
cobbler,  whose  home  seemed  to  him  as  ro- 
mantic and  picturesque  as  an  old  Dutch 
painting.  Perhaps  it  was  the  memory  of  this 
interior  that  inspired  Goethe  later,  when  he 
was  called  "  Doktor  Wolf"  by  his  proud 
mother,  to  arrange  in  "The  Star"  at 
Weimar,  in  honor  of  the  Duchess  Anna 
Amalie,  a  "festivity  in  clair-obscure "  with 
the  distinct  purpose  of  creating  a  Rembrandt 
scene. 

But  before  we  wander  in  the  far  world 
with  the  student  and  doctor,  let  us  take  a 
stroll  through  the  Frankfurt  of  his  child- 
hood and  admire  the  many  signs  that  still 

225 


decorated,  not  inns  alone,  but  also,  houses 
of  private  citizens.  The  "Goldene  Wage," 
situated  on  the  Domplatz  and  built  in  1625, 
as  well  as  the  "Grosse  Engel,"  opposite  the 
Romer,  are  still  standing,  and  are  filled  to- 
day with  the  treasures  of  art-loving  antiqua- 
rians. Recollections  of  his  childhood  passed 
through  Goethe's  mind  when  he  described  in 
"  Hermann  und  Dorothea"  the  pharmacy 
"  Zum  Engel,  "  near  the  "Golden  Lion"  on 
the  market-place,  and  the  old  bachelor 
chemist  who  was  too  stingy  to  regild  his 
angel-sign  :  — 

u  Who  now-a-days  can  afford  to  pay  for  the  numerous 

workmen  ? 
Lately  I  thought  to  have  new-gilt  the  figure  which 

stands  as  my  shop-sign, 
The  Archangel   Michael  with  horrible  dragon  around 

his  feet  writhing : 
But  as  they  are  I  have  left  them  all  dingy,  for  fear  of 

the  charges." 

The  father  of  some  boy  friends  of  Goethe's, 
a  Herr  von  Senckenberg,  "  lived  at  the  corner 
of  Hare  Street,  which  took  its  name  from  a 
sign  on  the  house  that  represented  one  hare 
at  least  if  not  three  hares."  Von  Sencken- 
berg's  three  sons  were  consequently  called 

226 


the   "three  hares,"   which  nickname   they 
could  not  shake  off  for  a  long  while. 

It  was  in  the  @ 
"Golden  Lion" 
at  Frankfurt 
that  Voltaire 
was  arrested  and 
interned  on  his 
word  of  honor 
until  his  lug- 
gage contain- 
ing the  stolen 
"CEuvre  de 
Poesies"  of 
Frederic  the 


TROI5  LAfW 


Great  should 
arrive.  In  these 
poems  the  king  had  ridiculed  several  crowned 
heads,  and  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance 
for  him  to  get  them  back  before  the  revenge- 
ful Frenchman  could  make  use  of  them 
against  him.  But  for  some  reason  or  other 
the  trunks  did  not  arrive,  and  Voltaire,  losing 
patience  and  "  without  warning  anybody, 
privately  revoked  said  word  of  honor  "  and 
tried  to  escape,  an  attempt  that  failed  and 
ended  in  a  tragic-comic  fashion.  Father 

227 


Goethe,  who  loved  to  tell  this  story  to  his  chil- 
dren as  a  warning  example  never  to  seek  the 
favors  of  princes,  does  not  agree  here  with 
Carlyle  in  the  name  of  the  tavern,  but  says  it 
was  "  The  Rose  "  in  which  "  this  extraordi- 
nary poet  and  writer  was  held  as  a  prisoner 
for  a  considerable  time."  When  the  fugitive 
was  brought  back,  the  landlord  of  the  tavern 
refused  to  take  him  in  again,  and  the  "  Bock  " 
became  for  the  rest  of  the  time  his  invol- 
untary lodging-place. 

In  spite  of  this  bad  example  and  his  father's 
distinct  warnings,  Goethe  in  1778  accepted 
the  invitation  of  the  Duke  of  Weimar  to  the 
"  Romische  Kaiser  "  in  Frankfurt,  where  he 
was  "joyfully  and  graciously  "  received,  and 
where  definite  arrangements  were  made  for 
his  removal  to  Weimar. 

After  the  death  of  Goethe's  father,  Mutter 
Aja  sold  the  old  homestead  on  the  Hirsch- 
graben  and  took  a  flat  in  the  "  Goldenen 
Brunnen "  on  the  Rossmarket,  where  the 
golden  fountain  of  her  good  humor  con- 
tinued to  flow  for  all  her  friends,  but  where 
she  no  longer  had  such  facilities  for  en- 
tertaining guests  as  in  the  roomy  house  of 
old.  When,  therefore,  her  daughter-in-law 

228 


(ftnb 

and  her  grandson,  the  "  liebe  Augst,"  came 
to  visit  her,  she  ordered  rooms  for  them  in 
"  The  Swan/'  Her  apartment  in  the  "  Golden 
Fountain"  we  know  from  her  own  lively 
description  in  a  letter  to  her  son,  who  visited 
her  here  several  times  before  her  death  in 
1808. 

Let  us  now  accompany  the  student  Goethe 
to  Strassburg  and  pay  a  visit  to  the  inn  "  Zum 
Geist,"  where  his  friendship  with  Herder,  so 
important  for  his  future  development,  was 
formed.  "  I  visited  Herder  morning  and 
evening,  I  even  remained  whole  days  with 
him  .  .  .  and  daily  learned  to  appreciate  his 
beautiful  and  great  qualities,  his  extensive 
knowledge,  and  his  profound  views."  In 
Leipzig,  the  next  university  where  Goethe 
studied,  he  lived  in  a  house,  between  the  old 
and  the  new  market,  which  was  called  after 
its  sign  "  Die  Feuerkugel."  One  of  the  first 
calls  he  made  was  to  the  literary  dictator 
Gottsched,  who  "  lived  very  respectably  in 
the  first  story  of  the  f  Golden  Bear/  where 
the  elder  Breitkopf,  on  account  of  the  great 
advantage  which  Gottsched's  writings  had 
brought  to  the  trade,  had  assured  him  a  lodg- 
ing for  life."  This  Bernhard  Christoph  Breit- 

229 


kopf  was  the  inventor  of  music  printing  and 
the  founder  of  the  famous  publishing  firm 
of  to-day.  His  house,  the  "Golden  Bear/* 
number  1 1  Universitatsstrasse,  is  to-day  the 
home  of  the  Royal  Saxon  Institute  for  uni- 
versal history  and  the  history  of  civilization, 
founded  by  the  distinguished  historian  Lam- 
precht.  In  Goethe's  day  Breitkopf 's  son  built 
a  great  new  house  opposite  the  "  Golden  Bear  " 
which  was  called  "Zum  Silbernen  Baren." 
A  very  popular  sign  in  those  days,  in  Ger- 
many, and  especially  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Frankfurt,  was  the  pentacle.  Goethe  calls  it 
simply  the  beer-sign  in  his  autobiography, 
where  he  tells  us  a  charming  story  based  on 
an  ingenious  and  humorous  interpretation 
of  the  two  triangles  which  compose  the  sign. 
While  still  living  as  a  young  lawyer  in  Mutter 
Aja's  house,  he  entertained  two  distinguished 
visitors,  the  famous  Lavater  and  the  educa- 
tional reformer  Basedow.  To  amuse  them 
he  arranged  carriage  drives  in  the  pleasant 
country  around  his  native  town.  We  see  the 
young  fire-brand  sitting  between  these  two 
dignified  men :  — 

"  The  prophets  sat  on  either  side, 
The  world-child  sat  between  them." 
230 


On  one  of  these  excursions  Basedow  had 
offended  the  pious  and  sweet  -  tempered 
Lavater  by  his  cynical  remarks  about  the 
Trinity  and  so  spoiled  the  pleasant  atmos- 
phere of  good  comradeship.  Goethe  punished 
him  in  the  following  humorous  manner. 
"The  weather  was  warm  and  the  tobacco 
smoke  had  perhaps  contributed  to  the  dryness 
of  Basedow's  palate;  he  was  dying  for  a  glass 
of  beer.  Seeing  a  tavern  at  a  distance  on  the 
road  he  eagerly  ordered  the  coachman  to 
stop  there."  But  Goethe  urged  him  to  go  on 
without  seeming  to  mind  the  furious  protest 
of  the  thirsty  Basedow,  whom  he  simply 
calmed  with  the  words:  "  Father,  be  quiet, 
you  ought  to  thank  me  !  Luckily  you  didn't 
see  the  beer-sign !  It  was  two  triangles  put 
together  across  each  other.  Now,  you  com- 
monly get  mad  about  one  triangle,  and  if  you 
had  set  your  eye  on  two  we  should  have  had 
to  put  you  in  a  strait-jacket/' 

On  his  first  journey  to  Switzerland,  in 
company  with  the  Stollbergs,  he  stayed  at  the 
hotel  "Zum  Schwert,"  which  is  still  stand- 
ing. "The  view  of  the  lake  of  Zurich  which 
we  enjoyed  from  the  Gate  of  the  Sword  is 
still  before  me."  On  the  Rigi  they  lodged 

231 


in  the  "Ochsen,"  and  here  from  the  window 
of  his  room,  he  sketched  one  Sunday  morn- 
ing the  chapel  of  the  "Madonna  in  the 
Snow."  In  the  evening  they  sat  before  the 
tavern  door,  under  the  sign,  and  enjoyed 
the  music  of  the  gurgling  fountain  and  a  sub- 
stantial meal  consisting  of  baked  fish,  eggs, 
and  "sufficient"  wine.  On  his  second  trip 
to  Switzerland  in  1779—80  we  meet  him, 
together  with  his  noble  friend  the  Duke  of 
Weimar,  in  "The  Eagle"  at  Constance, 
where  Montaigne  had  lodged  more  than  two 
hundred  years  before. 

We  could  mention  many  other  hospitable 
thresholds  which  the  great  genius  crossed: 
"  The  Red  Cock  "  in  Nuremberg,  now  an 
elegant  building  that  reminds  us  little  of  the 
ancient  low  house  with  its  large  gate  ;  or  the 
"  Hotel  Victoria  "  in  Venice,  whose  owner 
recalls  to  the  modern  traveler  Goethe's  visit 
in  a  proud  memorial  tablet.  "  I  lodged  well 
in  the  *  Konigin  von  England/  not  far  from 
the  market-place  the  greatest  advantage  of 
the  inn."  But  if  he  could  find  private  quar- 
ters he  preferred  them  to  public-houses;  so  in 
Rome,  where  he  was  very  glad  to  be  received 
in  the  home  of  the  painter  Tischbein. 

232 


There  is  sufficient  evidence  that  Goethe 
took  an  artistic  interest  in  signs,  since  he 
invented  one  himself  for  his  puppet  play 
"  Hanswurst's  Hochzeit,"  where  we  read  the 
bewitching  rhyme  :  - 

u  The  wedding-feast  is  at  the  house 
Of  mine  host  of  the  Golden  Louse." 

In  "  Truth  and  Poetry  "  he  has  given  us  the 
scheme  of  the  play,  which  was  never  really 
executed.  Like  a  born  stage  manager,  he 
proposed  a  kind  of  turning  stage :  "The  tav- 
ern with  its  glittering  insignia  was  placed  so 
that  all  its  four  sides  could  be  presented  to 
view  by  being  turned  upon  a  peg/'  This 
patent  idea  of  a  turning  inn  showing  its 
golden  sign  and  its  door  open  to  travelers 
from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  might 
please  the  modern  landlord  too,  even  if  he 
did  not  care  exactly  for  the  super-sign  of  a 
"Golden  Louse/'  "magnified  by  the  solar- 
microscope!  " 


CHAPTER    XI 
THE  ENGLISH  SIGN  AND  ITS   PECULIARITIES 


anb 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  ENGLISH  SIGN  AND   ITS  PECULIARITIES 

"Freedom  I  love,  and  form  I  hate 
And  choose  my  lodgings  at  an  inn." 

WILLIAM  SHENSTONE. 

WE  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  quote  as 
an  introduction  the  ipsissima  verba  of  Eng- 
land's classical  historian  Macaulay  on  the 
evolution  of  public  hospitality  in  his  country. 
Most  naturally  the  evolution  of  the  sign  runs 
parallel  to  the  evolution  of  the  tavern,  and 
in  a  time  of  flourishing  inns  we  may  expect 
to  find  highly  developed  tavern  signs.  "From 
a  very  early  period/'  says  Macaulay,  in  a 
chapter  on  the  social  condition  of  England 
in  1685,  "  the  inns  of  England  had  been  re- 
nowned. Our  first  great  poet  had  described 
the  excellent  accommodation  which  they 
afforded  to  the  pilgrims  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  Nine  and  twenty  persons,  with  their 
horses,  found  room  in  the  wide  chambers  and 
stables  of  the  Tabard  in  Southwark.  The 
food  was  of  the  best,  and  the  wines  such  as 
drew  the  company  on  to  drink  largely.  Two 

237 


hundred  years  later,  under  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth,  William  Harrison  gave  a  lively 
description  of  the  plenty  and  comfort  of  the 
great  hostelries.  The  continent  of  Europe, 
he  said,  could  show  nothing  like  them. 
There  were  some  in  which  two  or  three 
hundred  people  could  without  difficulty 
be  lodged  and  fed.  The  bedding,  the  tap- 
estry above  all,  the  abundance  of  clean  and 
fine  linen  was  a  matter  of  wonder.  Valuable 
plate  was  often  set  on  the  tables.  Nay,  there 
were  signs  which  had  cost  thirty  or  forty 
pounds.  In  the  seventeenth  century  England 
abounded  with  excellent  inns  of  every  rank. 
The  travelers  sometimes,  in  a  small  village, 
lighted  on  a  public-house  such  as  Walton  has 
described,  where  the  brick  floor  was  swept 
clean,  where  the  walls  were  stuck  round  with 
ballads,  where  the  sheets  smelled  of  lavender, 
and  where  a  blazing  fire,  a  cup  of  good  ale, 
and  a  dish  of  trout  fresh  from  the  neighbor- 
ing brook,  were  to  be  procured  at  small 
charge.  At  the  larger  houses  of  entertain- 
ment were  to  be  found  beds  hung  with  silk, 
choice  cookery,  and  claret  equal  to  the  best 
which  was  drunk  in  London." 

A  sign  that  costs  one  hundred  and  fifty 
238 


THE 


to  two  hundred  dollars  would  be,  even  in 
our  days  of  high-paid  labor,  a  thing  worth 
looking  at.  In  the  times  of  the  Renaissance 
it  certainly  was  a  work  of  excellent  crafts- 
manship, sculptured  in  wood  and  richly 
gilded.  On  an  extensive  tour  through  Eng- 
land which  brought  us  to  the  charming 
western  fishing-village  of  Clovelly,  with  its 
"New  Inn"  and  the  more  romantic  "Red 
Lion  "  down  by  the  little  harbor,  and  to  Ches- 
ter, in  the  north,  founded  by  the  Romans, 
we  were  disappointed  to  find  so  few  old  signs 
of  artistic  value.  We  found  very  few  carved 
in  wood  like  "The  Blue  Boar"  in  Lincoln 
or  "The  Swan"  in  Wells,  from  whose  win- 
dows the  beautiful  western  facade  of  the  ca- 
thedral, unusually  rich  in  sculptures,  is  seen 
through  the  green  veil  of  huge  old  trees. 
This  swan  sign  shows  certain  characteristics 
of  the  period  of  the  First  Empire,  and  surely 
does  not  date  back  beyond  1800.  Also  the 
famous  "Four  Swans"  in  the  little  town  of 
Waltham  Cross,  north  of  London,  perhaps 
the  only  existing  example  of  an  old  English 
custom  to  construct  the  sign  like  a  trium- 
phant arch  across  the  street,  are  not  so  old  as 
the  tavern,  which  a  bold  inscription  dates  in 

239 


the  year  1260.   How  could  a  sign  delicately 
carved  in  wood  resist  the  inclemency  of  the 


m 


weather,  when  the  stone  sculptures  of  the 
cathedrals, — as  in  Exeter,  for  instance,  or  in 
Salisbury,  —  although  leaning  against  the 
protecting  walls  of  these  gigantic  structures, 
suffered  so  much  ?  To  please  the  lovers  of 
antiquity  some  owners  of  old  houses  put  the 
most  arbitrary  dates  of  their  foundation  on 
the  neatly-painted  fronts.  In  the  street  in 
Chester  that  leads  down  to  "  The  Bear  and 
Billet/'  one  of  England's  oldest  frame  houses, 
we  saw  the  date  1006  painted  on  a  facade, 
evidently  built  in  Renaissance  times.  Other 
burghers  and  house-owners  who  have  more 
respect  for  exact  historic  truth,  see,  of  course, 
in  such  misleading  inscriptions  an  unfair 
competition. 

Signs  wrought  in  iron  seem  to  have  been 
rare  in  England,  the  art  of  forging  being  less 
developed  there  than  in  the  south  of  Ger- 

240 


many.  Curiously  enough  the  South-Kensing- 
ton Museum  in  London,  an  enormous  store- 
house of  old  works  of  arts  and  crafts,  contains 
not  a  single  English  sign,  but  a  very  beauti- 
fully forged  iron  sign  from  Germany,  dated 
1635,  —  a  baker's  sign,  as  the  great  crown 
and  the  heraldic  lions  reveal  to  us.  A  friendly 
assistant  at  the  Museum  showed  us  another 
German  sign  dating  from  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  charmingly  carved  and 
gilded,  representing  the  workshop  of  a  shoe- 
maker. These  two  were  the  only  signs  that 
the  Museum  possessed. 

The  old  London  signs  have  all  found  a 
very  dismal  refuge  in  the  dimly  lighted  cel- 
lar of  the  Guild  Hall.  Some  of  them  are 
stone  sculptures  of  considerable  size  like  the 
giant  sign  "Bull  and  Mouth. "  Here  too  we 
find  certain  technical  curiosities,  as,  "  The 
Dolphin"  of  1730  painted  on  copper,  and 
more  unusual  still,  "The  Cock  and  Bottle/' 
a  neat  and  dainty  design  composed  of  blue- 
and-white  Dutch  tiles.  The  foggy  and  damp 
climate  has  often  injured  not  only  the  carved 
woodwork  of  the  signboard,  but  still  more 
the  painting  on  it.  The  beam  on  which  it 
hangs  might  be  very  old;  the  painting  itself 

241 


is  always  of  recent  date  even  if  the  artist,  fol- 
lowing an  old  tradition,  sometimes  produces 
quaint  effects.  As  an  example  of  how  quickly 
the  work  of  the  sign-painter  darkens  beyond 
recognition,  we  may  cite  "The  Falstaff"  in 
Canterbury.  It  was  not  a  year  since  the  land- 
lady had  hung  out  this  picture  of  the  bluster- 
ing knight  in  a  bold  fencing-pose  that  we  saw 
it  last,  and  it  was  already  very  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish the  details  of  the  composition ;  while 
another  painting  —  the  immediate  prede- 
cessor of  the  sign  in  the  street  —  which  the 
friendly  Dame  showed  us  on  the  staircase  was 
as  black  and  bare  as  a  slate.  Sometimes  the 
frames  of  the  pictures  are  carved  and  allow 
us  to  guess  the  date  of  their  origin ;  but,  as  a 
rule,  the  perfectly  plain  signboard  hangs  out 
on  a  strong  beam.  A  typical  example  is  "  The 
Falcon"  in  Stratford-on-Avon. 

The  higher  the  artistic  value  of  the  paint- 
ing on  the  signboards  was,  the  more  we  have 
to  regret  that  so  much  art  was  wasted  on  such 
a  perishable  production.  In  the  eighteenth 
century  the  coach-painters,  whose  craftsman- 
ship on  old  equipages,  sledges,  and  sedan- 
chairs  we  still  admire  in  many  a  museum, 
used  to  produce  most  elegant  signs  and  re- 

242 


anb  ife  Qp*cufiarttfe0 

ceived  for  their  work  astonishingly  high 
prices.  Shaken  by  winds,  whipped  by  rain- 
storms, their  beauty  was  soon  gone.  Nowhere 
have  we  found  them  either  in  collections  or 
in  the  light  of  the  street.  Only  in  literary 
tradition  does  there  still  live  a  part  of  the 
charm  of  all  these  burned  and  weather-killed 
things  of  beauty. 

But  one  device  we  discovered  in  England 
to  restore  the  old  forms,  namely,  the  so-called 
club  signs.  Just  as  the  printer's  marks  often 
reproduce  en  miniature  the  sign  of  the  pub- 
lisher, so  the  club  signs  give  a  reduced  pic- 
ture of  the  old  tavern  signs,  especially  of  those 
that  were  cut  as  silhouettes  in  metal  plates. 
The  very  first  printers  of  the  fifteenth  century 
loved  to  introduce  into  their  books  these  little 
designs  symbolizing  their  names.  Peter  Drach 
in  Speyer  used  two  little  shields,  one  contain- 
ing a  winged  dragon  and  the  other,  as  a  friendly 
compensation^  Christmas  tree  and  two  stars. 
Johannes  Sensenschmied,  a  proud  "civis  Nu- 
rembergensis,"  had  two  crossed  scythes  (Sen- 
sen)  in  his  escutcheon.  These  same  designs 
appear  later  on  the  front  page  of  a  volume, 
neatly  engraved  on  copper,  often  reproduc- 
ing the  sign  of  the  bookshop  to  which  one 

243 


mxb  if* 

had  to  go  if  one  wanted  to  buy  this  particu- 
lar book.  A  Parisian  publisher  adopted  "  La 
Samaritaine,"  which  to-day  has  become  the 
name  of  a  great  department  store.  Mr. 
Leonard  Plaignard,  of  Lyon,  called  his  shop 
"Au  grand  Hercule,"  and  put  the  Greek 
hero  on  the  front  page  of  his  books  with  the 
inscription:  "Virtus  non  territa  monstris." 
Just  as  these  little  engravings  may  give  us  an 
idea  of  the  old  publishers'  signs,  so  we  may 
gain  from  the  club  signs  some  suggestions 
as  to  how  the  old  signboards  looked. 

On  Whitsunday  the  club  members  used 
to  fasten  these  small  brass  imitations  of  their 
beloved  tavern  sign  to  poles  and  carry  them 
in  solemn  procession  through  the  astonished 
town.  At  the  end  of  the  club  walking,  it  is 
whispered,  many  were  unable  to  hold  the 
poles  as  straight  as  they  wished.  The  museum 
of  the  quiet  little  town  of  Taunton  possesses 
a  remarkable  series  of  such  club  signs.  It  has 
become  quite  a  fad  in  England  to  collect 
these  little  polished  brass  figures,  since  the 
public  has  got  tired  of  the  warming-pan 
craze. 

Morris  dancers  sometimes  joined  in  the 
club  processions,  among  them  the  green  or 

244 


SALUTATION  INN  IN  MANGOTSFIELD 


wild  man,  Robin  Hood,  famous  in  song  and 
story ;  they  amused  the  crowd  with  such 
charming  airs  as  — 

u  c  O,  my  Billy,  my  constant  Billy, 

When  shall  1  see  my  Billy  again  ?  ' 
1  When  the  fishes  fly  over  the  mountain, 
Then  you  '11  see  your  Billy  again.' ' 

Our  design  of  two  gentlemen  saluting  each 
other  politely  is  such  a  club  sign,  repro- 
ducing in  miniature  the  sign  of  the  "  Saluta- 
tion Inn  "  in  Mangotsfield,  and  representing 
the  last  link  in  the  chain  of  salutation  signs, 
which  began  with  the  old  religious  scene  of 
Mary  saluted  by  the  angel. 

Price  Collier,  in  his  book  "  England  and 
the  English,' '  has  dedicated  a  whole  chapter 
to  English  sport,  on  which  the  nation  spends 
every  year  $223,888,725,  more  than  the 
cost  of  her  entire  military  machine,  navy  and 
army  together.  On  fox  hunting  alone  she 
spends  $43,790,000.  This  love  of  sport  is 
an  old  English  trait,  shared  by  both  sexes. 
One  of  the  first  books  printed  in  England 
was  a  book  on  sport,  "  The  Bokys  of  Hauk- 
yng  and  Huntyng,"  supposed  to  be  written 
by  a  lady,  Juliana  Berners,  the  prioress  of 
the  nunnery  of  Sopwell,  and  published  for 

245 


ite 

the  first  time  in  the  new  black  art  in  1486. 
A  schoolmaster  of  the  abbey  school  of  St. 
Albans  had  arranged  the  edition,  and  it  is 
therefore  sometimes  quoted  as  "  The  Book 
of  St.  Albans."  No  wonder,  then,  that  such 
a  popular  subject  was  readily  chosen  by  the 
sign  painters,  and  that  they  love  to  picture  the 
hunted  animals,  the  white  hart  and  the  fox, 
and  not  less  often  the  faithful  companions 

of  the  hunter, 
dog  and  horse, 
hawk  and  fal- 
con. 

A  great  role 
is  played  by  the 
horse,  not  only 
as  the  heraldic 
animal  in  the 
coat  of  arms  of 
the  Saxons  and 
of  the  House 


THE  PACK-HORSE  IN 
•CHIPFENHAM- 


of  Hanover,  but  the  real  beast,  from  the  good 
old  pack-horse  to  the  lithe-limbed  racer.  In 
the  early  Middle  Ages,  when  the  roads  were 
so  bad  that  it  was  impossible  for  heavy 
wagons  to  travel  on  them,  the  pack-horse 
was  the  only  medium  for  the  transportation 

246 


of  goods,  post-packages,  and  mail.  Those 
were  hard  days  for  impatient  lovers,  who 
would  have  preferred  to  send  their  billets- 
doux  in  Shakespearean  fashion,  "  making  the 
wind  my  post-horse."  Sometimes  the  horse's 
burden,  the  wool-pack  —  the  wool  business 
being  the  chief  trade  in  England  in  the 
twelfth  century --appears  on  the  signboard. 
In  fact,  in  the  time  of  Ben  Jonson  "The 
Woolpack"  was  one  of  the  leading  hostel- 
ries  of  London. 

Another  sign  is  the  race-horse,  celebrated 
by  Shakespeare  in  such  lines  as  — 

u  And  I  have  horse  will  follow  where  the  game 
Makes  way,  and  run  like  swallows  o'er  the  plain." 

from  "Titus  Andronicus"  (n,  ii),  or  those 
other  lines  in  "Pericles"  (n,  i)  — 

"  Upon  a  courser,  whose  delightful  steps 
Shall  make  the  gazer  joy  to  see  him  tread." 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII,  a  tavern 
called  "The  Running  Horses"  existed  in 
Leatherhead,  a  place  not  exactly  fitted  for 
noble  hunters,  since  a  contemporary  poet 
complains  about  the  beer  being  served  there 
"  in  rather  disgusting  conditions."  Not  in- 
frequently we  find  more  or  less  happy  por- 

247 


traits  of  famous  race-horses,  such  as  "  The 
Flying  Dutchman"  and  "Bee's  Wing"; 
sometimes  even  a  hound  was  honored  in  this 
way,  guarding  the  entrance  of  a  tavern  as 
his  famous  Roman  colleague,  pictured  in 
mosaic,  did  in  the  days  of  antiquity.  "  The 
Blue  Cap  "  in  Sandiway  (Cheshire)  was  such 
a  sign. 

In  Chaucer's  time  it  was  a  popular  fashion 
to  decorate  trie  horses  with  little  bells,  as  we 
may  infer  from  the  Abbot's  Tale :  — 

"When  he  rode  men  his  bridle  hear, 
Gingling  in  a  whistling  wind  as  clere, 
And  eke  as  loud  as  doth  a  chapel  bell." 

Curiously  enough,  these  bells,  sometimes 
of  silver  and  gold,  are  designated  in  old  manu- 
scripts by  the  Italian  word  campane,  as  if  this 
custom  had  been  adopted  by  the  English 
gentry  from  Italy.  The  "gentyll  horse"  of 
the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  the  old  docu- 
ments would  tell  us,  was  decorated  with 
"campane  of  silver  and  gylt."  Most  natu- 
rally such  valuable  bells  were  very  welcome 
as  prizes  in  the  sporting  world;  in  Chester, 
for  instance,  the  great  prize  of  the  annual 
race  on  St.  George's  Day  consisted  of  a  beauti- 
ful golden  bell  richly  adorned  with  the  royal 

248 


\t* 

escutcheon.  But  independent  of  this  custom 
the  bell  has  always  been  very  popular  in  Eng- 
land. The  great  German  musician  Handel 
has  even  called  it  the  national  musical  instru- 
ment, because  nowhere  else,  perhaps,  do  the 
people  delight  so  much  in  the  chimes  of  their 
churches.  We  find  it,  therefore,  everywhere 
on  the  tavern  sign,  sometimes  in  absurd  com- 
binations like  "Bell  and  Candlestick "  or 
"Bell  and  Lion";  very  prettily  in  connec- 
tion with  a  wild  man,  "  Bell  Savage,"  which 
is  changed  under  gallant  French  influence 
into  "Belle  Sauvage,"  or  even  "La  Belle 
Sauvage."  "Cock  and  Bell"  points  again  to 
a  popular  sport,  the  cock-fight.  Like  the 
little  slant-eyed  Japanese,  the  small  boys  of 
Old  England  loved  to  watch  this  exciting 
game;  on  Lent-Tuesday  special  cock-fights 
were  arranged  for  them,  and  the  happy  little 
owner  of  the  victorious  animal  was  presented 
with  a  tiny  silver  bell  to  wear  on  his  cap. 
No  wonder  that  "The  Fighting  Cocks" 
themselves  appear  on  the  signboard.  We  find 
them  on  taverns  in  Italy,  too,  where  the 
popularity  of  this  sport  goes  back  to  the  Ro- 
man days.  The  Bluebeard  King  Henry  VIII 
issued  an  order  prohibiting  all  cock-fights 

249 


ite 

among  his  subjects,  all  the  while  establish- 
ing for  himself  a  cockpit  in  White  Hall  as 
a  royal  prerogative.  In  the  days  of  Queen 
Victoria  the  rather  cruel  sport  was  definitely 
abolished. 

Another  not  less  cruel  sport  still  lives  in 
the  tavern  sign  "  Dog  and  Duck."  The  birds 
were  put  into  a  small  pond  and  chased  by 
dogs.  Watching  the  frightened  creatures 
dive  to  escape  their  pursuers  constituted  the 
chief  joy  of  the  performance.  We  may  still 
hear  the  wild  cries  of  the  spectators  urging  on 
the  dogs,  when  we  read  the  old  rhyme  — 

"  Ho,  ho,  to  Islington ;  enough ! 
Fetch  Job  my  son,  and  our  dog  Ruffe ! 
For  there  in  Pond,  through  mire  and  muck, 
We'll  cry:  hay  Duck,  there  Ruffe,  hay  Duck!" 

An  old  stone  sign  of  such  a  "Dog  and 
Duck"  tavern,  dated  1617,  can  still  be  seen 
in  London  outside  of  the  Bethlehem  Hospi- 
tal in  St.  George's  Field.  The  popular  name 
of  this  lunatic  asylum  is  Bedlam — favorite 
word  of  Carlyle  to  designate  confusion  and 
chaos. 

Here  in  South  London  special  arenas  were 
built  for  the  spectacle  of  bear-baiting,  and  it 
is  no  chance  that  as  early  as  in  the  time  of 

250 


Richard  III  the  most  popular  tavern  of  this 
quarter  was  called  "The  Bear."  It  stood 
near  London  Bridge,  and  was  frequented 
especially  by  aristocratic  revelers.  In  these 
scenes  of  rough  amusements  for  the  people 
the  muse  of  Shakespeare  introduced  the  gentle 
dramatic  arts.  Here  his  "Henry  V" was  in- 
troduced for  the  first  time,  perhaps,  with  its 
solemn  chorus:  "Can  this  cockpit  hold  the 
vasty  fields  of  France?" 

Still  more  than  these  artificial  and  butch- 
ery sports  of  the  citizen,  the  real  joys  of  the 
hunter  found  their  echo  in  the  productions 
of  the  sign-painters.  There  is  hardly  an  Eng- 
lish town  withouta  "  White  Hart  Inn."  Since 
the  days  of  Alexander  the  Great,  who  once 
caught  a  beautiful  white  hart  and  decorated 
his  slender  neck  with  a  golden  ring,  since 
Charlemagne  and  Henry  the  Lion,  the  white 
hart  has  been  a  special  favorite  of  the  hunter, 
whose  joys  no  poet  perhaps  has  sung  so 
charmingly  as  Shakespeare  in  these  lines  of 
"Titus  Andronicus"  (n,  ii  and  iii) :  — 

44  The  hunt  is  up,  the  morn  is  bright  and  grey, 
The  fields  are  fragrant,  and  the  woods  are  green: 
Uncouple  here      ...... 


251 


anb  if 

The  birds  chaunt  melody  on  every  bush ; 

The  snake  lies  rolled  in  the  cheerful  sun ; 

The  green  leaves  quiver  with  the  cooling  wind, 

And  make  a  chequer' d  shadow  on  the  ground  : 

Under  their  sweet  shade,  Aaron,  let  us  sit, 

And  —  whilst  the  babbling  echo  mocks  the  hounds, 

Replying  shrilly  to  the  well-tun'd  horns, 

As  if  a  double  hunt  were  heard  at  once  — 

Let  us  sit  down.  .  .  ." 

Another  group  of  signs  celebrates  Master 
Reynard.  We  see  him  harassed  by  dogs  and 
riders  on  the  sign  "Fox  and  Hounds "  in 
Barley  (Hertfordshire).  We  miss  only  the 
sportive  ladies  who  dip  their  kerchiefs  of 
lace  in  the  poor  devil's  blood  to  show  that 
they,  too,  were  in  at  the  finish.  This  sign, 
by  the  way,  was  used  long  centuries  ago, 
since  we  hear  of  a  "Fox  and  Hounds  Inn" 
in  Putney  that  claims  to  be  over  three  hun- 
dred years  old. 

The  German  Nimrod  took  no  less  pleas- 
ure than  his  English  cousin  in  seeing  a  hunt- 
er's sign  on  the  tavern  door,  as  is  amply 
proved  by  the  many  golden  harts,  flying  in 
great  bounds,  or  our  George  sign  from  Deger- 
lock,  daintily  wrought  in  iron.  The  German 
poets,  too,  sang  many  a  song  celebrating  the 
adventures  of  the  chase. 

252 


anb 

Not  so  often  do  we  find  on  the  Continent 
the  so-called  "punning  sign/'  which  might 


well  be  called  an  English  specialty,  since 
England's  greatest  poet  used  to  indulge  a 
great  deal  in  punning,  —  "mistaking  the 
word"  as  he  calls  it.  In  a  dialogue  full  of 
quibbles  in  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  " 
he  admits  himself  that  it  is  a  weakness  to 
yield  to  it:  — 

"  Speed.   How  now,  Signior  Launce  ?  What  news  with 
your  mastership? 

253 


its 

"  Launce.   With  my  master's  ship  ?    Why,  it  is  at  sea. 
"  Speed.    Well,  your  old  vice  still :   mistake  the  word. 
What  news  then  in  your  paper  ? 

"  Launce.   The  blackest  news  that  ever  thou  heard'st. 
"  Speed.   Why,  man,  how  black? 
"  Launce.    Why,  as  black  as  ink." 

And  thus  he  goes  on  against  his  better  judg- 
ment and  "  the  old  vice  "  triumphs,  not  only 
here,  but  in  nearly  all  his  plays.  Following 
the  illustrious  example  of  the  great  poet  the 
English  landlord  puts  all  kinds  of  puns  and 
puzzles  on  his  signs,  and  the  private  citi- 
zen of  simple  birth  and  aristocratic  ambi- 
tions created  for  himself  the  most  ridiculous 
escutcheons  by  childish  plays  upon  his  own 
name.  Thus,  Mr.  Haton  would  put  a  hat  and 
a  tun  in  his  coat  of  arms  and  Mr.  Luton  a 
lute  and  a  tun  without  giving  a  thought  to 
etymology.  Likewise  the  landlord's  name 
would  account  for  such  curious  signs  as 
"  Hand  and  Cock,"  which  was  simply  the 
punning  sign  of  a  certain  John  Hancock  in 
Whitefriars. 

Diligent  authors  like  Frederic  Naab  — 
who,  together  with  Thormanby,  made  a  spe- 
cial study  of  sign  puzzles  —  are  indefatigable 
in  searching  out  the  deep  meaning  of  all 
these  tavern  sign  absurdities.  "  The  Pig  and 

254 


Whistle  "  alone  has  been  explained  in  twelve 
different  ways.  We  mentioned  above  how 
"  The  Cat  and  Fiddle  "  was  a  mutilation  of 
the  old  religious  sign  of  "  Catherine  and 
Wheel."  In  similar  fashion  the  noble-sound- 
ing "  Bacchanals  "  were  degraded  to  a  com- 
mon "  Bag  of  Nails." 

Topers  and  tipplers,  whose  forte  was  cer- 
tainly not  orthography,  loved  to  confuse 
"  bear  "  and  "  beer,"  words  that  might  very 
well  sound  alike  when  pronounced  by  beery 
voices.  A  certain  Thomas  Dawson  in  Leeds, 
who  evidently  sold  a  rather  heavy  beer, 
warned  his  customers  on  his  sign  :  "  Beware 
of  ye  Beare."  Lovers  of  cards  invented  the 
amusing  distortion  of  "Pique  and  Carreau  " 
into  "  The  Pig  and  Carrot."  The  popular 
political  sign  of"  The  Four  Alls,"  represent- 
ing a  King  ("I  rule  all"),  a  Priest  ("I 
pray  for  all"),  a  Soldier  ("I  fight  for  all"), 
and  John  Bull  as  farmer  ("  I  pay  for  all  "), 
was  changed  into  "  Four  Awls,"  a  sign  which 
presented  infinitely  less  difficulties  to  a  painter 
of  few  resources.  Sometimes  the  Devil  is 
added  as  fifth  figure  saying,  "  I  take  all." 

Cromwell's  soldiers  once  took  offense  at 
the  sign  of  a  tavern  where  they  were  obliged 

255 


anb  i 

to  put  up  for  the  night.  They  took  it  down 
and  in  its  place  wrote  over  the  door  the 
words,  "  God  encompasses  us."  The  next 
day,  when  they  were  gone,  the  landlord  had 
the  brilliant  idea  to  change  the  pious  words 
to  the  punning  sign,  "  Goat  and  compasses/' 
Maybe,  too,  the  compasses  were  a  commer- 
cial trade-mark,  as  we  see  them  still  to-day 
oh  boxes  and  casks. 

Very  popular  was  the  joking  sign,  "  The 
Labor  in  Vain,"  representing  a  woman  oc- 
cupied in  the  hopeless  task  of  washing  a  col- 
ored boy:  — 

41  You  may  wash  and  scrub  him  from  morning  till  night, 
Your  labor's  in  vain,  black  will  never  come  white." 

This  particular  sign  was  imported  from 
France,  where  the  calembour  sign  flourished. 
Some  even  say  that  the  punning  sign  became 
popular  in  England  only  "  after  Edward  ye  3 
had  conquered  France."  The  French  have 
two  interpretations  of  the  "  Labor  in  Vain  "  : 
one  corresponds  with  the  English  version ; 
the  other,  "  Au  temps  perdu,"  represents  a 
schoolmaster  teaching  an  ass.  As  counter- 
part we  find  "Le  temps  gagne,"  a  peasant 
carrying  his  donkey.  The  French  calembours 

256 


anb  ite 

were  decidedly  less  reverential  than  the  Eng- 
lish punning  signs.  Neither  religion  nor  good 
morals  are  sacred  to  the  Gallic  wag,  who  is 
allowed  to  say  anything  if  he  understands 
how  to  turn  it  gracefully.  "  Le  Signe  de  la 
croix"  is  depicted  by  a  swan  (cygni)  and  a 
cross,  and  even  the  tragic  scene  of  Jesus 
taken  prisoner  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsem- 
ane  —  le  juste  pris  —  is  turned  into  the 
shameless  words,  "  Au  juste  prix,"  to  adver- 
tise the  cheapness  of  drinks  and  victuals. 
More  innocent  is  the  distortion  of  the  "Lion 
d'or  "  into  the  undeniable  truth,  "Au  lit  on 
dort,"  or  the  inscription  on  a  white-horse 
sign :  "  Ici  on  loge  a  pied  et  a  cheval."  The 
temptation  to  use  such  calembours  no  trader 
could  resist.  A  corset-maker  praised  his 
goods  thus:  "  Je  soutiens  les  faibles,  je  corn- 
prime  les  forts,  je  ramene  les  egares."  We 
shall  see  in  the  following  chapter  how  such 
pointed  jokes  and  blasphemies  roused  the 
righteous  indignation  of  the  honorable  and 
pious  citizens  and  increased  the  enemies  of 
the  sign,  who  finally  gave  it  the  coup  de  grace. 


CHAPTER   XII 
THE  ENEMIES  OF  THE  SIGN  AND  ITS  END 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   ENEMIES  OF  THE  SIGN  AND   ITS  END 

««Ne  songez  pas  meme  a  reformer  les  cnseignes  d'une  ville!" 

IN  mediaeval  times  the  signs  were  not  only 
charming  or  pious  decorations  of  the  snug 
narrow  streets,  but  they  were  also  very  use- 
ful and  practical  guides  for  the  wayfarer 
through  the  labyrinth  of  crooked  lanes.  Even 
the  uneducated  understood  their  pictorial 
language  like  illustrations  in  a  book  which 
give  even  to  a  child  a  certain  clue  to  its 
meaning.  For  this  very  reason  the  learned 
Sebastian  Brant  decorated  his  edition  of 
Virgil  of  1522  with  elaborate  pictures, — 
expolitissimis  Jiguris  atque  imaginibus  nuper 
per  Sebastianum  Brant  superadditis, —  firmly 
hoping  that  now  even  the  unlearned  would 
easily  understand  the  beauties  of  his  beloved 
author  :  "Nee  minus  indoctus  perlegere  ilia  po- 
test"  While  the  learned  men  in  general  con- 
tinued to  despise  pictures  in  their  editions 
of  the  classics,  the  first  popular  books  tried 
through  their  wood-cuts  to  speak  to  the 
fancy  of  the  common'  people  and  thus  win 

261 


of 

their  applause.  Just  as  these  pictures  in  the 
old  books,  so  the  signs  in  the  streets  spoke  to 
the  indoctus.  Therefore,  if  somebody  wished 
to  send  a  letter  to  his  banker  in  Fleet  Street, 
London,  he  needed  only  to  tell  his  messenger 
that  it  was  at  the  "  Three  Squirrels,"  and  he 
was  sure  that  even  the  greatest  numskull 
could  find  it.  Unfortunately  the  owners  of 
this  old  banking-house  have  withdrawn  the 
sign,  so  it  took  me  quite  a  while  before  I 
found  it  safely  hung  up  on  a  modern  iron 

arm  in  the  office 
of  Messrs.  Bar- 
clay &  Co.,  No. 
19,  Fleet  Street. 
The  character- 
istic interpreta- 
tion of  the  sign, 
given  to  me  by 
the  banker  him- 
self, was:  "May 
you  never  want 
a  nut  to  crack." 
In  the  old 
times  the  streets 
were  not  yet  numbered,  as  Macaulay  tells  us, 
not  even  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

262 


•THREE  -SQUIRRELS  -LONDON- 


of  tfy  ^i<jn  anb  i 

"  There  would  indeed  have  been  little  advan- 
tage in  numbering  them ;  for  of  the  coachmen, 
chairmen,  porters,  and  errand-boys  of  Lon- 
don, a  very  small  proportion  could  read.  .  .  . 
The  shops  were  therefore  distinguished  by 
painted  signs,  which  gave  a  gay  and  gro- 
tesque aspect  to  the  streets.  The  walk  from 
Charing  Cross  to  Whitechapel  lay  through 
an  endless  succession  of  Saracens'  Heads, 
Royal  Oaks,  Blue  Bears,  and  Golden  Lambs, 
which  disappeared  when  they  were  no  longer 
required  for  the  direction  of  the  common 
people/'  As  a  useful  guide  to  find  one's  way 
the  sign  was  expressly  recognized  by  the 
state  authorities ;  so  in  a  privilege  granted 
by  Charles  I  to  the  inhabitants  of  London 
to  hang  out  signs  "for  the  better  finding 
out  such  citizens'  dwellings,  shops,  arts,  or 
occupations."  For  the  landlords,  it  was  even 
made  obligatory  so  as  to  facilitate  the  police 
in  determining  if  the  laws  concerning  the 
liquor  trade  were  properly  observed.  An  Act 
of  Parliament  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI 
forced  the  brewers  to  hang  out  signs  and  an 
ordinance  of  Louis  XIV  for  Paris  distinctly 
demands :  "  Pour  donner  a  connoitre  les  lieux 
ou  se  vendent  les  vins  en  detail  et  si  les  regle- 

263 


of 

ments  y  sont  observez,  nul  ne  pourra  tenir 
taverne  en  cette  dite  ville  et  faubourgs  sans 
mettre  enseigne  et  bouchon."  Similar  regu- 
lations we  find  in  Switzerland  ;  as,  for  in- 
stance, in  Maienfeld  where  the  city  fathers 
punished  every  one  who  kept  tavern  with- 
out an  "  open  sign."  Through  such  restric- 
tions they  hoped  to  stop  the  competition  of 
the  simple  burgher,  "the  temporary  land- 
lord," who  tried  to  sell  the  surplus  product 


of  his  own  vineyard,  and  thus  to  secure  the 
patronage  of  all  thirsty  souls  for  the  legal 
"  Schildwirt,"  the  landlord  with  a  sign,  even 

264 


of 

if  he  lived  only  from  the  "  bouchon  "  or 
cork  and  could  not  accommodate  guests  over- 
night. 

If  they  had  not  a  sign  out,  how  could  the 
watchman,  after  the  night-bell  —  sometimes 
called  "  Lumpenglocke  "  in  Germany —  had 
sounded,  investigate  properly  if  the  tavern- 
keepers  really  stopped  to  furnish  the  guests 
with  new  wine?  And  was  it  not  the  duty  of 
the  city  fathers  to  look  after  the  morals  of 
their  subjects  and  to  teach  them  the  wisdom 
of  the  German  saying  :  — 

"  Er  hat  nicht  wol  getrunken,  der  sich  ubertrinket. 
Wie  ziemet  das  biderbem  Mann,  daz  ihm  die  Zunge 
hinket  ? " 

So  the  sign  was  in  many  ways  a  useful  insti- 
tution topographically,  politically,  and  mor- 
ally. Its  merits  are  not  yet  exhausted :  it 
was  a  good  weather  prophet,  too.  When  the 
old  iron  things  began  to  moan  and  to  squeak, 
storm  and  rain  surely  were  not  far,  as  an  Eng- 
lish rhyme  whimsically  says :  — 

"  But  when  the  swinging  signs  your  ears  offend 
With  creaking  noise,  then  rainy  floods  impend." 

How  was  it  possible,  then,  that  such  an 
institution  as  our  amiable  sign,  approved  and 
furthered  by  the  State,  such  a  popular,  often 

265 


of 

artistically  charming  creation,  could  have 
enemies?  The  first  reason,  as  we  have  seen 
in  our  chapter  on  "  Religious  Signs,"  was  that 
pious  signs  were  used  by  impious  innkeepers 
or  that  religious  themes  were  represented  in 
a  manner  insulting  to  all  religious  feeling. 
No  wonder,  if  a  French  landlord  called  his 
tavern  "Au  sermon,"  and  illustrated  the 
word  "sermon"  by  a  deer  (eerf)  and  a  moun- 
tain (mont^y  that  the  really  pious  citizen  pro- 
tested and  exclaimed  indignantly:  "Ne  de- 
vrait-on  pas  condamner  a  une  grosse  amende 
un  miserable  cabaretier  qui  met  a  son  en- 
seigne  un  cerf  et  un  mont  pour  faire  une  ridi- 
cule equivoque  a  sermon  ?  Ce  qui  autorise  des 
ivrognes  a  dire  qu'ils  vont  tous  les  jours  au 
sermon  ou  qu'ils  en  viennent." 

Surely  the  really  pious  signs  subsisted  be- 
side their  frivolous  brothers,  as  the  English 
doctor-sign  of  1623,  beautifully  carved  and 
gilded  and  now  a  treasure  of  a  collector, 
proves  by  its  inscription:  "Altissimus  crea- 
vit  de  terra  medicynam  et  vir  prudens  non 
abhorrebit  illam."  Curiously  enough,  the 
schoolmaster  souls  took  offense  at  the  sign's 
absurd  combinations,  its  lack  of  "sound  liter- 
ature and  good  sense,"  its  impossible  ortho- 

266 


of 

graphy  and  ridiculous  mottoes,  which,  by  the 
way,  were  added  only  later  to  the  pictures. 
All  this  was  extremely  shocking  to  these 
people  and  many  of  them  thought  it  a  noble 
life-task  to  re- 
form the  signs. 
One  of  these  re- 
formers devel- 
oped his  pro- 
gramme in  one 
of  the  oldest 
English  periodi- 
cals, "The  Spec- 
tator," in  an 
April  number 
oftheyeariyio, 
fully  aware  of 
attempting  an 
herculean  labor. 

Combinations, such  as  "Fox  and  Goose,"  he 
deigns  to  admit;  but  what  sense,  asks  he,  in 
logical  indignation,  "  is  in  such  absurdities  as 
'  Fox  and  the  Seven  Stars/  or  worse  still,  in 
the  'Three  Nuns  and  a  Hare'?"  Moliere, 
in  "Les  Facheux,"  has  ridiculed  these  sign 
reformers,  a  species  not  unknown  in  Paris 
either,  in  the  person  of  Monsieur  Caritides, 

267 


of 

who  humbly  solicited  Louis  XIV  to  invest 
him  with  the  position  of  a  General  Sign 
Controller.  His  petition  reads,  in  Moliere's 
inimitable  French,  as  follows :  — 

Sire: 

Votre  tres-humble,  tres-obeissant,  tres- 
fidele  et  tres  savant  sujet  et  serviteur  Cari- 
tides,  Frangais  de  nation,  Grec  de  profession, 
ayant  considers  les  grands  et  notables  abus 
qui  se  commettent  aux  inscriptions  des  en- 
seignes  des  maisons  boutiques,  cabarets,  jeux 
de  boule  et  autres  lieux  de  votre  bonne  ville 
de  Paris,  en  ce  que  certains  ignorants,  com- 
positeurs  des  dites  inscriptions,  renversent, 
par  une  barbare,  pernicieuse  et  detestable 
orthographe,  toute  sorte  de  sens  et  de  raison, 
sans  aucun  regard  d'etymologie,  analogic, 
energie  ni  allegoric  quelconque  au  grand  scan- 
dale  de  la  republique  des  lettres  et  de  la  nation 
Francaise,  qui  se  decrie  et  deshonore,  par 
les  dits  abus  et  fautes  grossieres,  envers  les 
etrangers,  et  notamment  envers  les  Allemands, 
curieux  lecteurs  et  inspecteurs  des  dites  in- 
scriptions .  .  .  supplie  humblement  Votre 
Majeste  de  creer,  pour  le  bien  de  son  fitat  et 
la  gloire  de  son  empire  une  charge  de  contro- 

268 


of  tty  ^i$n  anb  i 

leur,  intendant-correcteur,  reviseur  et  restau- 
rateur general  des  dites  inscriptions  et  d'icelle 
honorer  le  suppliant.  .  .  . 

In  all  impartiality  we  have  to  admit  that 
really  the  sign  lost  by  and  by  its  usefulness 
as  a  street-guide,  since  the  trades  and  crafts 
occupying  a  house  changed  often,  while  the 
old  signs,  especially  those  which  formed  a 
part  of  its  architecture,  remained  unchanged, 
thus  producing  the  most  ridiculous  contra- 
dictions against  which  the  above-mentioned 
reformer  of  "The  Spectator"  protested  not 
without  reason,  saying :  "  A  cook  should 
not  live  at  'The  Boot'  nor  a  shoemaker  at 
'The  Roasted  Pig/" 

But  the  most  ruthless  enemy  of  the  sign 
became  the  police  itself,  who  once  pro- 
tected it.  As  early  as  the  year  1419  we  find 
an  English  police  regulation,  threatening 
with  a  fine  of  forty  pence  —  in  those  days 
quite  a  sum  —  "  that  no  one  in  future  should 
have  a  stake  bearing  either  his  sign  or  leaves, 
extending  or  lying  over  the  King's  highway, 
of  greater  length  than  seven  feet  at  most." 
As  every  innkeeper  tried  to  outdo  the  other 
by  the  size  and  the  magnificence  of  his  sign, 

269 


of 

one  arrived  finally  at  absurdly  great  construc- 
tions which  really  hampered  the  traffic:  as 
in  England,  where  we  find  wrought-iron 
signs  which,  like  arches  of  triumph,  reached 
from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other.  A 
precious  old  book,  "  A  Vademecum  for  Malt- 
Worms"  (British  Museum),  in  a  quaint 


THE  rDOGi  *  IN^HOREDWH 


woodcut,  "The  Dog  in  Shoreditch,"  gives  us 
a  picture  of  such  a  sign  monument.  To  the 
artist's  eyes  they  were  charming  things,  com- 
bining happily  great  lanterns  with  the  sign 
into  a  harmony  which  we  so  often  find  lack- 
ing in  modern  days,  where  beautiful  old  signs 
through  the  addition  of  ugly  modern  lamps 
lose  all  their  artistic  charm  of  yore. 

270 


of 

Mercier's  "Tableau  de  Paris "  tells  us  of 
ridiculously  great  signs :  spurs  as  large  as  a 
wheel,  gloves  big  enough  to  house  a  three- 
year-old  babe,  and  the  like.  In  old  Germany, 
too,  the  sight  of  the  giant  signs,  as  Victor 
Hugo  describes  them  from  Frankfurt-on- 
the-Main,  must  have  been  fantastic  enough. 
"  Under  the  titanic  weight  of  these  sign 
monuments  caryatides  are  bowed  down  in  all 
positions  of  rage,  pain,  and1  fatigue."  Some 
of  them  carry  an  impudent  bronze  negro  in 
a  gilded  tin  mantle;  others  an  enormous 
Roman  emperor  —  a  monolith  of  twenty 
feet  in  height  —  "dans  toute  la  pompe  du 
costume  de  Louis  XIV  avec  sa  grande  per- 
ruque,  son  ample  manteau,  son  fauteuil,  son 
estrade,  sa  credence  ou  est  sa  couronne,  son 
dais  a  pentes  decoupees  et  £  vastes  draperies." 

Especially  objectionable  to  the  police  in 
London  were  those  signs  that  reached  far  out 
over  the  street  and,  shaken  by  the  wind,  consti- 
tuted a  real  danger  to  the  passer-by.  So  the 
fall  of  such  a  huge  inn  sign  in  Fleet  Street, 
London,  in  1718,  caused  the  death  of  two  t 
ladies,  a  court  jeweler,  and  a  cobbler.  Simi- 
lar dangers  threatening  an  innocent  public 
were  vividly  set  forth  in  a  Parisian  police 

271 


THE  QUEEN- 
IN  EXETER,* 


ordinance  in  1761,  in 
an  amusing  bureaucratic 
French :  "  Les  enseignes 
saillantes  faisaient  paraitre 
les  rues  plus  etroites  et 
dans  les  rues  commer- 
f  antes  elles  nuisaient  con- 
siderablement  aux  vues  des 
premiers  etages,  et  meme 
a  la  clarte  des  laternes,  en 
occasionnant  des  ombres 
prejudiciables  a  la  surete 
publique;  elles  formaient 
un  peril  perpetuellement 
imminent  sur  la  tete  des 
passants,  tant  par  I'inatten- 
tion  des  proprietaires  et 
des  locataires  sur  la  vetuste 
des  enseignes  ou  des  po- 
tences,  qui  en  ont  souvent 
abattu  plusieurs  et  cause 
les  accidents  les  plus  fu- 
nestes." 

If  the  police  had  con- 
tented itself  in  eliminat- 
ing the  offensive  or  really 
dangerous  signs,  nobody 

272 


of 

could  have  blamed  it.  Unfortunately  it  was 
much  more  aggressive,  especially  in  France, 
the  paradise  of  the  "ronds  de  cuir,"  and 
attempted  to  cut  down  every  individual  or 
artistic  invention  on  the  part  of  the  sign- 
makers.  We  are,  therefore,  not  surprised  to 
find  so  little  in  modern  France  that  could 
remind  us  of  the  old  abundance.  The  offi- 
cials of  the  Revolution  proved  themselves  just 
as  narrow-minded  as  those  of  royal  times. 
Both,  animated  by  the  bureaucratic  instinct 
to  confine  everything  to  narrow  rules,  tried 
to  suppress  all  individual  poetical  invention 
that  once  was  the  charm  of  the  sign.  A  royal 
edict  of  1763  prescribes  a  very  uninteresting 
design  as  a  binding  model  for  all  signs,  giving 
at  the  same  time  the  exact  measurements  of 
the  same  and  warning  the  public  not  to  dare 
to  make  any  changes  on  the  "  dessein  cy- 
dessus  marque."  It  was  a  poor  consolation 
for  the  owners  of  beautiful  old  signs  that  the 
same  edict  granted  them  the  great  privilege 
of  giving  their  art-treasures  in  account  as  old 
iron  —  "quinze  deniers  la  livre"  —  when 
paying  the  bill  for  the  new  sign  patented  by 
the  State.  Still  more  radically  acted  the  men 
of  the  Revolution,  who  sincerely  hated  the 

273 


of 

signs,  with  their  crowns  and  heraldry,  as 
abominable  "  marques  du  despotisme."  They 
made  short  work,  and  simply  ordered: 

"Toutes  les  en- 
seignes  qui  por- 
tent des  signes  de 
royalisme,feoda- 
lite  et  de  super- 
stition seront  re- 
nouvelees  et  rem- 
placees  par  des 
signes  republi- 
cains :  les  en- 
seignes  ne  seront 
plus  saillantes 
mais  simplement 
peintes  sur  les 
mursdes  maisons." 
Another  danger  for  the  sign  resulted  from 
the  attempt  to  number  the  houses  of  which 
we  hear,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  France, 
as  early  as  1512.  This  first  attempt  failed,  but 
in  the  enlightened  eighteenth  century  the 
new  and  certainly  more  reasonable  method 
of  distinguishing  a  house  from  its  neighbor 
decidedly  gained  ground.  In  1805  it  was 
made  obligatory  by  the  Parisian  police.  A 

274 


of 

similar  development  we  observe  in  England. 
Nobody  will  deny  the  practical  progress  and 
no  business  man  would  like  to  return  to  the 
old  times  when  an  English  bookseller,  for 
instance,  had  to  give  the  address  of  his  shop 
in  the  following  way :  "  Over  against  the 
Royal  Exchange  at  the  Sugar  Loaf  next  Tem- 
ple Bar."  In  Germany,  where  the  centrali- 
zation in  large  capitals  made  slower  progress 
and  a  multitude  of  small  social  and  political 
centers  kept  their  own,  the  rational  institu- 
tion of  numbering  the  houses,  so  necessary 
in  great  cities  like  Paris  or  London,  was  not 
accepted  so  quickly.  In  1802  Dresden,  for 
instance,  had  not  even  on  the  street  corners 
signs  indicating  their  names  ;  "  an  institution 
that  facilitates  topography  and  topography 
facilitates  business,"  remarks  a  judicious  con- 
temporary. Here  in  Germany  the  cold  num- 
ber did  not  conquer  so  easily  over  the  poetical 
warmth  of  the  dear  old  sign.  In  the  quiet, 
imperial  towns  of  the  south  the  artistic  sign 
of  the  Rococo  period  and  the  Empire  style, 
unpersecuted  and  unmolested,  keep  their 
place  in  the  sun  up  to  the  present  day  in  spite 
of  some  ill-advised  landlords  who  thought  it 
necessary  to  hide  the  humble  oxen  or  lamb 

275 


It  6ntmit0  of 

in  the  garret  and  call  their  house  by  some 
new  pretentious  French  name  like  "  Hotel 
de  1'Europe"  or  the  like. 


In  our  own  enlightened  times  of  general 
school  education,  nobody  needs  any  more 
the  sign  as  a  guide  through  even  the  most 
modest  town.  Everywhere  the  number  has 
taken  its  place  for  this  purpose  and  we  regret 
to  admit  for  the  history  of  the  sign  too  the 
truth  of  Darwin's  words:  "Progress  in  his- 
tory means  the  decline  of  phantasy  and  the 
advance  of  thought." 


ENVOY 
AND  THE  MORAL? 


ENVOY 

AND  THE  MORAL? 

"  I  am  here  in  a  strange  land  and  have  perhaps  the  seat  of  honor 
at  table  in  this  inn;  but  the  man  down  there  on  the  end  has  just 
as  good  a  right  here  and  there  as  I,  since  we  are  both  here  only 
guests." 

MARTIN  LUTHER:  Sermons.  Jubilate,  1542. 

IT  is  not  very  much  the  fashion  in  these 
modern  days  to  ask  for  the  moral  meaning 
of  things,  but  we  are  old-fashioned  enough 
to  hold  with  those  who  believe  that  things 
have  not  only  a  soul,  but  that  they  give  us 
a  lesson  too  in  revealing  their  soul  to  us,  "  la 
lecon  des  choses,"  as  the  French,  whom  we 
are  inclined  to  call  condescendingly  the  im- 
moral French,  call  it.  Old  Frederic  the  Great 
in  his  famous  interview  with  the  poet  Gel- 
lert  in  Leipzig,  after  hearing  from  him  one 
of  his  fables  "  The  Painter  of  Athens,"  did 
not  fail  to  ask  the  all-important  question : 
"And  the  Moral  ?" 

Many  a  reader  who  has  followed  us  but 
hesitatingly  into  regions  that  seemed  to  him 
at  the  beginning  of  doubtful  moral  value, 

279 


will  be  perhaps  surprised  to  see  us  conclude 
our  investigations  with  this  same  question. 
But  I  am  sure  we  will  do  it  with  good  profit, 
since  in  doing  so  we  shall  have  the  chance 
to  hear  many  a  sermon  of  Doctor  Martinus 
Luther,  whose  moral  force  we  children  of 
the  twentieth  century  would  love  to  dig  out 
of  his  writings  if  its  gold  did  not  seem  to 
us  so  hopelessly  buried  under  the  sand  of 
antiquated  dogmatical  quarrels. 

The  tavern  sign  has  its  moral  lesson  for 
all  concerned,  guests  and  landlords  alike. 
From  its  modest  and  unknown  creators  the 
modern  artist  too  may  receive  many  a  valu- 
able inspiration.  When  the  poet  Seume,  in 
December,  1801,  started  from  Grimma  in 
Saxony  on  his  long  pilgrimage  to  Syracuse, 
his  way  seems  to  have  led  him  soon  to  a 
knightly  George,  who  fights  the  dragon  in 
all  Christian  lands,  over  many  a  tavern  door 
for  centuries  and  whom  Shakespeare  cele- 
brated in  the  verses :  — 

"St.  George  that  swindg'ed  the  Dragon,  and  e'er  since 
Sits  on  his  horseback  at  mine  hostess*  door." 

Looking  at  the  great  green  beast  our  ro- 
mantic pilgrim  prayed  :  "  May  heaven  grant 
me  honest,  friendly  landlords  and  polite 

280 


(ftnb  tty  (ttlomf  ? 

guardians  at  the  city  gates  from  Leipzig  to 
Syracuse  !  "  In  those  old  days  when  the  gate 
was  dangerously  near  the  tower  and  its  dun- 
geon, it  was  indeed  of  the  highest  impor- 


tance to  find  polite  officials  at  the  city  gates ; 
just  as  we  might  sometimes  pray  to-day  for 
polite  customs  officials,  the  successors  of  the 
old  grumpy  watchmen  who  guarded  the 
city  entrance  and  wrote  the  newcomer's 
name  in  their  big  books.  Still  more  impor- 
tant, too,  is  it  for  the  modern  traveler  to  find 
friendly  landlords.  They  seem  as  in  the  old 
days  a  gift  from  heaven,  for  which  we  must 

281 


pray  and  which  we  cannot  buy.  Truly  many 
travelers  seem  to  think  a  full  purse  buys 
everything,  but  they  forget  the  old  truth 
which  Charles  Wagner,  in  his  book  "  La 
vie  simple/'  has  expressed  rightly  in  the  fol- 
lowing sentence  :  "  Le  travail  d'un  homme 
n'est  pas  une  marchandise  au  meme  titre 
qu'un  sac  de  ble  ou  un  quintal  de  charbon. 
II  eritre  dans  ce  travail  des  elements  qu'on 
ne  peut  evaluer  en  monnaie."  And  just  these 
fine  elements  in  the  work  of  a  landlord  and 
his  servants  which  we  cannot  weigh  or  pay 
for  make  the  simplest  inn  so  homelike  and 
cozy.  A  good  landlord  does  not  need  to  fear 
even  Death,  who  seems  to  seize  only  the 
dishonest  one,  if  we  believe  the  author  of  a 
"  Dance  of  Death  "  from  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury in  the  Stuttgarter  Hofbibliothek.  In  a 
few  forceful  lines  the  old  artist  traces  the 
figure  of  the  bad  landlord  sitting  behind  his 
counter  and.  trying  to  win  the  good  favors 
of  the  uncanny  musician  Death,  by  offering 
him  a  great  stein  of  beer  and  humbly  con- 
fessing :  "  Against  God  and  against  law  I 
sought  to  win  earthly  goods,  taking  money 
unjustly  from  knights  and  peasants  as  a 
robber  does.  Oh,  if  I  only  should  not  die 

282 


(ftnb 

now,  I  could  hope  to  improve  and  to  win 
grace/' 


Many  a  landlord  would  gladly  follow  the 
example  of  Abraham  if  only  his  guests  would 
try  to  learn  a  little  from  the  angels.  But 
how  often  come  to  him  such  wild  fellows 
who  claim  every  good  thing  he  has  in  cel- 
lar and  kitchen,  and  when  it  comes  to  pay 
take  French  leave. 

It  is  well  known  that,  as  the  old  Bible 
283 


saying  goes,  the  sun  is  shining  over  good 
and  bad,  over  just  and  unjust,  but  Luther 
thought  he  does  not  do  it  gladly.  Perhaps 
the  Doctor,  who  knew  so  many  roads  from 
his  own  experience,  even  thought  of  the 
golden  tavern  sun  when  he  said  :  "  The  sun 
would  prefer  that  all  the  bad  fellows  should 
get  not  a  single  little  gleam  from  him  and 


IZUR  SOMNE 


it  is  a  great  grief  and  cross  to  him  that  he 
must  shine  over  them,  wherefore  he  sighs 
and  moans." 

28* 


QfUotraf? 

Nobody  has  admonished  us  so  heartily  as 
Doctor  Martinus  to  hold  ourselves  as  pious 
guests  in  this  inn  of  Life,  to  live  honestly 
and  decently  in  it  as  it  becomes  a  guest.  "  If 
you  wish  to  be  a  guest,  be  peaceful  and  be- 
have yourself  as  a  Christian  ;  otherwise  they 
will  soon  show  you  the  way  to  the  tower." 
It  is  characteristic  for  Luther  to  remind  the 
unruly  guest  of  the  tower,  i.e.,  the  prison. 
In  other  connections  too  he  readily  refers  to 
Master  John  the  Hangman  who  is  to  his 
mind  a  very  useful,  nay,  even  charitable  man. 

Since  we  did  not  hesitate  to  threaten  the 
landlord  with  the  ghastly  musician  of  the 
"  Dance  of  Death,"  it  will  seem  only  fair  to 
remind  the  guests  of  the  tower,  which  in  the 
old  days  was  used  as  prison  for  the  peace- 
breakers.  Luther,  like  all  good  Germans, 
was  not  a  prohibitionist;  he  recognized  "a 
drink  in  honor,"  "  einen  Trunk  in  Ehren," 
but  he  was  a  fierce  enemy  of  all  "drunkards 
and  loafers"  who  lie  in  taverns  Sunday  and 
week-day  and  pour  the  beer  down  their 
throats  as  cows  gulp  water,  saying :  "  What 
do  I  care  about  God,  what  do  I  care  about 
death?  You  miserable  hog,  you  shall  get 
what  you  are  striving  for,  you  shall  die  too 

285 


and  be  swallowed  up  by  the  mouth  of  Hell." 
To  every  decent  landlord  such  guests  are  a 


curse.  To  chase  them  from  his  threshold 
the  owner  of  the  "George  and  Dragon"  in 
Great  Budworth  (Cheshire)  invented  the  fine 


286 


(ftnb 

rhyme  which  should  stand  over  every  tavern 
door : — 

"  As  St.  George  in  armed  array 
Did  the  fiery  dragon  slay, 
So  may'st  thou,  with  might  no  less, 
Slay  that  dragon  drunkenness." 

A  decent  behavior  surely,  but  no  melan- 
choly teetotalism,suchis  Luther's  standpoint. 
"  Those  have  not  been  of  the  devil  who  drank 
a  little  more  as  their  thirst  required  and  be- 
came joyful/'  -  "  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  that  some  people  degrade 
themselves  to  swine/'  Just  as  dancing  in  it- 
self is  no  sin :  "  Why  not  admit  an  honorable 
dance  at  a  marriage  feast  ?  Go  and  dance ! 
The  little  children  dance  too  without  sin ;  do 
the  same  and  be  like  a  child  wrhose  soul  is 
not  injured  by  dancing/' 

The  whole  world  appears  to  Luther  like 
an  inn  in  a  strange  town,  in  which  the  pil- 
grim lies.  In  his  nightly  dreams  he  does  not 
think  of  becoming  a  citizen  or  a  major  of 
this  town,  his  thoughts  wander  away  through 
the  gate  to  the  far  city  where  his  home  is. 

To  the  pretentious  traveler  his  description 
of  "  Christ's  Inn,"  which  reminds  us  of  our 
Swiss  sign,  "  Hie  zum  Christkindli,"  might 

287 


serve  as  a  little  lesson  in  modesty.  Thus 
he  speaks  about  it  in  a  Christmas  sermon : 
"  Look,  how  the  two  parents  in  a  strange 
land  in  a  strange  city  search  in  vain  for  good 
and  hospitable  friends.  Even  in  the  inns  was 
no  room,  since  the  city  at  that  time  was  so 
crowded.  In  a  cow-stable  they  had  to  go 
and  make  the  best  of  it  as  poor  poor  people! 
There  was  no  couch,  no  linnen,  no  cushions, 
no  feather-beds ;  on  a  bundle  of  straw  they 
made  their  bed  as  close  neighbours  of  the 
good  cattle.  There  in  a  hard  winter-night 
the  noble  blessed  fruit  was  born,  the  dear 
child  Jesus/'  And  in  another  Christmas  ser- 
mon he  says:  "If  you  look  at  it  with  cow's 
or  swine's  eyes  it  was  a  miserable  birth  .  .  . 
but  if  you  open  your  spiritual  eyes  you  will 
see  countless  thousands  of  angels,  filling  the 
heaven  with  their  song  and  honouring  not 
only  the  child  but  the  manger  too  in  which 
it  lies." 

Everything  depends  finally  upon  the  way 
we  look  at  it,  if  with  cows'  eyes  or  with 
spiritual  eyes.  Only  these  will  enable  us  to 
see  in  the  poorest  inn  the  angel  of  hospi- 
tality covering  us  at  night  with  gentle  wings. 
Till  finally  Mother  Earth  shall  cover  us  softly 

288 


in  our  last  quiet  "  Deversorium  "  in  which  we 
have  at  least  the  hangman's  comfort:  "You 
shall  be  called  to  no  more  payments,  fear  no 
more  tavern  bills  which  are  often  the  sadness 
of  parting  as  the  procuring  of  mirth. " 

But  we  must  not  end  without  delivering 
a  little  sermon  to  the  signs,  too,  that  still 
glitter  in  the  warm  sunshine.  To  them,  cocks, 
deer,  bears,  oxen,  and  horses,  a  church-tower 
cock,  celebrated  by  the  humorous  clergyman 
poet  Mdricke  of  Schwabenland,  gives  this 
solemn  warning :  — 

"  You  poor  old  iron  things, 
Why  should  you  be  so  vain  ? 
Who  knows  how  many  springs 
You  will  up  there  remain  ?  " 


1 .  Petit  dictionnaire  critique  et  anecdotique  des  enseignes  de  Paris 
par  un  batteur  de  pave  1826,  in  Balzac's  (Euvres  completes, 
tome  xxi.    1879. 

2.  E.  DE  QUERIERE.    Rechcrches  historiques  sur  les  enseignes,  in 
the  Magazin  pittoresque,  1850-60. 

3.  BLAVIGNAC.    Histoire  des  enseignes  d'hotclleries,  d'auberges 
et  de  cabarets.   Geneve,  1879. 

4.  L.  REUTTER.    Les  enseignes  d'auberges  du  canton  de  Neu- 
chatel,  avec  notices  par  A.  Bachelin.    1886.   Neuchatel. 

5.  MiCHEL-FouRNiER.   Histoire  des  Hotelleries.   Paris,  1851. 

6.  JOHN  GRAND-CARTERET.   L'enseigne,  son  histoire,  sa  philoso- 
phic, ses  particularites  a  Lyon.    Grenoble,  1902. 

7.  Journal  du  Voyage  de  MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE  en  Italic  par 
la  Suisse  et  1'Allemagne  en  1580  et  1581.    Rome,  1775. 

8.  TRISTAN  LECLERE.   Les  Enseignes,  in  the  Revue  Universelle, 
1905. 

9.  P.  FROMAGEOT.  Les  Hotelleries,  cafes  et  cabarets  de  1'ancien 
Versailles.    1907. 

10.  EMILE  CHATELAIN.  Notes  sur  quelques  tavernes  frequentees 
par  I'universite  de  Paris  au  XIV  et  XVsiecles.  Paris,  1898. 

n.  E.  L.  CHAMBOIS.  Le  Vieux  Mans,  les  Hotelleries  et  leurs 
enseignes.  Le  Mans.  1904. 

12.  JACOB  LARWOOD  and  JOHN  CAMDEN  HOTTEN.   The  History 
of  Signboards.    First  edition.   London,  1866. 

13.  CHARLES  HINDLEY.   Tavern  Anecdotes  and  Sayings.   Lon- 
don, 1 88 1. 

14.  GEO.  T.  BURROWS.    Some  Old  English  Inns.   New  York. 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  &  Co. 

15.  GEO.  T.  BURROWS.    Old  Inns   of  England,  in  the   Estate 
Magazine,  May,  1905. 

293 


1 6.  P.  H.  DITCHFIELD.    English  Villages. 

17.  P.  H.  DITCHFIELD.   The  Charm  of  the  English  Village. 

1 8.  E.  G.  DAWBER.    Old  English  Signs  in   The  Art  Journal, 

1897. 

19.  T.   B.    COOPER.   The  Old   Inns  and  Inn  Signs  of  York. 

1897. 

20.  F.  G.  HILTON   PRICE.    The  Signs  of  Old  Lombard  Street. 
Illustrations  by  James  West.    London.   Field  and  Tuer. 

21.  WILFRED  MARK  WEBB.     Signs  that  Survive,  in  the  English 
Illustrated  Magazine.    September,  1900. 

22.  JULIAN  KING  COLFORD.   The  Romance  of  the  Signs  of  Old 
London,   in  the    Magazine  of  Commerce.  July-December, 
1903. 

23.  F.  CORNMAN.  Some  Old  London  Shop  Signs.    3  series,  1891- 
94,  printed  only  in  30  to  40  copies  (Guildhall-Library: 
Gal.  M.  i.  5.  4°). 

24.  A  GUIDE  FOR  MALT  WORMS,  a  second  of  a  Vademecum  for 
Malt  Worms  or  a  Guide  to  Good-Fellows.    London.    Illus- 
trated with  proper  cuts.     (British  Museum :   C-39~b.  19.) 

25.  De  Uithangteekens  in  verband  met  Geschiedenis  in  Volks- 
leven  beschouwd  door  Mr.  I.  VAN  LENNEP  en  I.  TER  Gouw. 
First  edition,  1868.   New  edition,  Leiden,  1888. 

26.  OVERBECK.    Pompeji. 

27.  H.  JORDAN.    Uber  romische  Aushangeschilder,  in  the  Ar- 
cheeologisebe  Zeitang,  1872. 

28.  HOMEYER.    Deutsche  Haus-und  Hofmarken. 

29.  FRIEDRICH  HAAS.  Entwickelung  der  Posten  vom  Altertum  bis 
zur  Neuzeit.    Berlin,  1895. 

30.  BENNO  RUTTENAUER.  Schwabische  Wirtshauschilder,  in  Die 
Rbeinlande,  November,  1903. 

3 1 .  LEO  VON  NOORT.    Deutsche  Wirtshauschilder.    Woche,  June, 
1909. 

32.  A.   BRUDER.   Die  Wirtshauser  des  Mittelalters.    Innsbruck, 
1885. 

33.  TH.  VON  LIEBENAU.    Gasthofswesen  in  der  Schweiz.    1891. 

34.  HANS  BARTH,  Osteria.   Kulturgeschichtlicher  Fiihrer.   durch 
Italiens  Schenken.    Verlag  Julius  Hoffmann.   Stuttgart. 

294 


35.  FRITZ  ENDELL.    Wirtshauschilder.    Uber  Land  und  Meer, 
1910.    (39.) 

36.  CHARLES  FEGDAL.  Les  vieilles  enseignes  de  Paris.   3.  edition. 
Paris,  1914. 

37.  £DOUARD  FOURNIER.    Histoire  des  enseignes  de  Paris,  1884. 

38.  STEPHEN  JENKINS.  The  Old  Boston  Post  Road.   New  York, 

«9'3- 

39.  WEITENKAMPF.   Lo,  The  Wooden  Indian.   (The  art  of  mak- 
ing cigar-shop  signs.    Sculptors  in  wood  who  began  by  making 
the   figureheads  of  ships.)    New    York    Times ,   August   3, 
1890. 

40.  WEITENKAMPF.   Some  Signs  and  Others.    New  Tork  Times, 
July  3,  1892. 


C'est  bien  disne,  quand  on  s'echappe 

Sans  debourser  pas  un  denier, 

Et  dire  adieu  au  tavernier 

En  torchant  son  nez  dans  sa  nappe. 

5  VILLON. 


Abbot's  inn,  62. 

Absalom,  159. 

Adam  and  Eve,  5,  7,  138. 

Ad  maurum,  38. 

Ad  Mercurium  et  Apollinem, 

39- 

Admiral  Vernon,  207. 
Ad  rotam,  37  (illus.). 
Affenwagen,  91  (illus.). 
A  1'enseigne  de  la  belle  etoile, 

165. 

A  1'enseigne  de  la  lune,  16^. 
A  1'enseigne  du    pavilion  des 

singes,  169. 

A  1'image  du  Christ,  71. 
A   1'image   de   Notre   Dame, 

151- 

Alia  spada,  80. 

A  man  loaded  with  mischief, 

155; 

American   signs,    151,    199  /., 

213. 

Anchor,  84,  85,  117. 
Ane  raye,  1',  92. 
Angel,  7,  11  (illus.),  I2/.,  81, 

124. 

Annunciation,  12. 
Apollo,  38,  203,  213. 
Ark  of  Noah,  89. 
Asne  rouge,  173. 
Ass  in  the  bandbox,  210. 
Auberge  de  la  mule,  89. 
Auerbach's  Keller,  85. 
Au  grand  monarque,  189. 


Au  grand  vainqueur,  195. 

Au  juste  prix,  257. 

Au  lit  on  dort,  257. 

Au  paradis  des  dames,  7. 

Au  perroquet  vert,  97. 

Au  sermon,  266. 

Au  temps  perdu,  256. 

Au  vase  d'or,  123. 

Aux  deux  Pierrots,  151. 

Aux  trois  lapins,  227  (illus.). 

Axe,  85. 

Bacchus,  152,  203. 

Bag  of  nails,  255. 

Bakers'    signs,    86,    134,    135 

(illus.),  241. 
Barking  dogs,  158. 
Bear,  36,  44,  72,  120,  185,  21 1, 

251- 

Bear  and  Billet,  240. 

Beehive,  98. 

Bee's  Wing,  248. 

Bell,  73,  117,  138,  247 /. 

Bell  and  candlestick,  249. 

Bell  and  lion,  249. 

Belle  sauvage,  249. 

Blue  bear,  263. 

Blue  boar,  115  (illus.),  239. 

Blue  cap,  248. 

Boar's  head,  US/. 

Bock,  228. 

Bonaparte,  151,  207 /.,  210. 

Boot,  85,  269. 

Bowman  tavern,  114. 


299 


Bras  d'or,  199. 
Bratwurstglockle,  185. 
Brutus,  196. 
Bull,  86,  164. 
Bull  and  bell,  86. 
Bull  and  magpie,  86. 
Bull  and  mouth,  241. 
Bull  and  stirrup,  86. 
Buona  moglie,  la,  69. 
Butcher  sign  (illus.),  197. 

Cabaret  du  petit  pere  noire, 

178. 

Cadran  bleu,  214. 
Cage,  73,  97. 
Camel,  44. 
Canone  d'oro,  80. 
Capello,  117. 
Castor  and  Pollux,  203. 
Cat  and  fiddle,  204,  255. 
Cat  and  wheel,  204. 
Cavallo  bianco,  45,  174. 
Cave  des  morts,  la,  160. 
Centaur,  107,  119. 
Chaste  Suzanne,  la,  152. 
Chat  noir,  150,  175. 
Chat  qui  dort  (illus.),  89. 
Cheshire  Cheese,  i8o/. 
Chessboard,  33,  139. 
Cheval  blanc,  151,  174. 
Cicero,  207. 
Cigogne,  90. 
Club  signs,  243. 
Cochon  mitre,  204. 
Cock,  34,  90,   162,  180,  183, 

184  (illus.),  190. 
Cock  and  bell,  249. 
Cock  and  bottle,  241. 
Cock  and  crown,  215. 
Cockpit,  104. 
Couronne  civile,  194. 


Cradle,  99. 
Crocodile,  92. 
Croix  de  Lorraine,  175. 
Cromwell,  206. 
Cross,  82,  99,  185,  205,  257. 
Cross  Keys,  104. 
Crown,  1 8,  72,  86,  120,  122, 
124,  191  (illus.\  192,  211 /. 
Cursus  publicus,  40. 
Curtain,  104. 
Czar's  head,  206. 

Death  and  the  doctor,  160. 

Deux  torches,  177. 

Devil,  182. 

Diable,  176. 

Diana,  38. 

Dog,  89,  214,  246. 

Dog  and  duck,  250. 

Dog  and  pot  (illus.),  214. 

Dog    in    Shoreditch    (illus.\ 

270. 

Dolphin,  203,  241. 
Donkey,  210. 
Dove,  90. 
Dragon,  93. 
Dromedary,  91. 
Drudenfuss,  32. 

Eagle,  35,  41,  82,   117,   120, 

169,  232. 

Eagle  and  child  (illus.\  100. 
Eisenhut,  79. 
Elephant,  34,  35,  45,  113. 
Elephant  and  castle  (illus.),  7. 
Epee  de  bois,  177. 
Erasmus  of  Rotterdam,  206. 

Falcon,  104,  105  (illus.),  242. 
Falstaff,  242. 
Federal  punch,  213. 


300 


Femme  sans  tete,  67,  69. 

Feuerkugel,  229. 

Fighting  cocks,  249. 

Fish,  84. 

Flags,  36. 

Fleur  de  lys,  82. 

Flying  Dutchman,  248. 

Flying  horse,  108. 

Fontaine  de  jouvence,  la,  152. 

Fortune,  104,  203. 

Four  alls,  255. 

Four  swans,  240. 

Fox,  94,  246. 

Fox  and  goose,  267. 

Fox  and  hounds,  252. 

Fox  and  the  seven  stars,  267. 

Frederic  the  Great,  206. 

Garter,  112. 

Geant,  le,  94. 

George,  54,  62,  63,  108,  280. 

George  and  dragon,  164,  286 

(illus.). 

German  hospitality,  21  /. 
German  War-poster,  162. 
Giraffe,  93. 
Globe,  164. 
Goat,  163. 

Goat  and  compasses,  256. 
God  begot  house,  54. 
God  encompasses  us,  256. 
Golden  bear,  229. 
Golden  cannon,  45. 
Golden  cross,  205. 
Golden  eagle,  208. 
Golden  head,  176. 
Golden  lamb,  263. 
Golden   lion,    103,    170,    226, 

227. 

Golden  louse,  233. 
Golden  tiger,  112. 


Goldene  Brunnen,  228. 
Goldene  Wage,  226. 
Good  eating,  73,  139. 
Good  man,  70. 
Good  Samaritan,  154. 
Good  woman,  67,  68. 
Governor  Hancock,  200. 
Grand  Hercule,  le,  94. 
Gray  donkey,  210. 
Greek  signs,  44. 
Green  monkeys,  90 /. 
Grosser  Engel,  226. 
Guild-houses,  137. 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  206. 

Habsburger  Hof ,  1 1 1 . 
Half-Moon,  87,  88,  112,  136. 
Half-Moon    and    punchbowl, 

213- 

Hand  and  cock,  254. 
Hand  of  hospitality,  19 /. 
Haubert,  le,  80. 
Hell,  45,  72. 
Helmet,  78 /. 

Hercules,  9,  38,  94,  203,  244. 
High  Lily,  53. 
Horse,  2467. 
Hospice    of    the    Great    St. 

Bernard,  50. 

Hospital  of  St.  Cross,  53. 
Hotel  de  1'Arquebuse,  114. 
Hotel  de  TEmpereur,  211. 
Hotel  de  TEurope,  276. 
Hotel  Victoria,  232. 
Huron,  151,  204. 

In  angelo,  13. 
In  der  Roskam,  136. 
In  duobus  angelis,  13. 
Indian  signs,  204. 
Iron  helmet,  78  /. 


301 


Jonge  Stier,  154. 

Kaiserhof,  in. 
Kaiser  Joseph,  210. 
Knights  of  St.  John,  51  /. 
Knights  Templars,  51  /. 
Kolner  Hof,  in. 
Konigin  von  England,  232. 
Korn's  Hotel,  220. 
Krug,  135. 

Labor  in  vain,  256. 
Lamb,  85,  99,  137. 
Leopard,  HI. 
Linde,  81. 

Lion,  83,  185,  186  (illus.). 
Little  and  great  sleeper,  94. 
Living  signs,  97. 
Logger-Heads,  159. 
Lubbar's  Head,  HI. 

Mayde's  Hede,  109. 

Mercury,  38. 

Mermaid,  93,  178. 

Minerva,  203. 

Mirabilia  Romae,  53. 

Mitre,  182. 

Mol's  Coffee  House,  81. 

Moon,  87. 

Moor,  38. 

Mortar,  173. 

Mort  qui  trompe,  la,  27,  160. 

Mouton  blanc,  1767. 

Mule,  89,  173. 

Mutter  Griin,  165. 

New  Inn,  no,  239. 

Oak,  2ii. 

Ochse,  232. 

Ostel  des  singes,  1',  90. 


Osteria  del  penello,  46. 
Ours  qui  pile,  173. 

Pack-Horse,  246  (illus.). 
Paon  blanc,  96. 
Paradise,  7,  72. 
Parrot  and  punchbowl,  213. 
Peacock,  96,  103. 
Pegasus,  108,  203. 
Pentacle,  230. 
Pentagram,  32/.,  230. 
Pestle,  173. 
Pheasant,  96. 
Phenix,  104,  107,  203. 
Pig  and  carrot,  255. 
Pig  and  whistle,  2547. 
Pilgrim  inns,  51,  63. 
Pitcher,  134,  136. 
Plat  d'argent,  73. 
Plat  d'estein,  173. 
Pomegranate,  107. 
Pomme  de  pin,  I74/. 
Poor  men's  inns,  51,  61. 
Post,  221. 

Publishers'  signs,  243  /. 
Punchbowl,  212. 
Purgatory,  72. 

Quatre  nations,  170. 
Quattuor  sorores,  27. 

Rathskeller,  84. 
Raven,  222. 
Red  bull,  104. 
Red  cock,  232. 
Red  horse,  103. 
Red  lion,  106,  109,  239. 
Rembrandt,  206. 
Remouleur  (illus.),  152,  153. 
Renard  dansant  devant  une 
poule,  95. 


302 


Rheinischer  Hof,  in. 
Ritter,  62. 
Roasted  pig,  269. 
Roi  mort,  le,  196. 
Roman  eagle,  41. 
Roman  post-system,  40. 
Romischer  Kaiser,  228,  271. 
Rose,    104,   121    (illus.),   212, 

228. 
Rowing    barge,    164    (illus.), 

125. 

Royal  oak,  211,  263. 
Running  horses,  247. 
Ruysdael,  206. 

Sagittary,  113,  203. 

Sainte  Opportune,  171. 

Salutation,  72,  158,  205,  245. 

Samaritaine,  244. 

Saracen's  Head,  263. 

St.  Barbara,  73. 

St.  Catherine  and  wheel,  204. 

St.  Christopher,  60 /. 

St.  Dominic,  66. 

St.  Fiacre,  70. 

St.  George,  62/.,  65. 

St.  Martin,  65 /. 

St.  Urban,  66. 

Schiller,  206. 

Schoolmaster  sign,  131,  147. 

Seelhauser,  51. 

Ship,  84. 

Ship  and  punchbowl,  213. 

Shoemaker  sign,  241. 

Silent  woman,  68. 

Siren,  93,  203. 

Six  reines,  93. 

Soleil  d'or,  152. 

Speaking  signs,  135;. 

Spread  eagle,  117. 

Star,  72,  86,  87,  140,  185,  225. 


Star  and  garter,  113. 

Stella  maris,  86. 

Stork,  36,  90. 

Striped  donkey,  92. 

Sugar  Loaf,  275. . 

Sun,  38,  39,   86/.,    138,   284 

(illus.). 

Surgeon's  sign,  147 /. 
Swan,  95,  229,  239. 
Swan  and  horse  shoe,  215. 
Sword,  80. 

Tabard,  80,  237. 

Tavern,  29. 

Temps  gagne,  le,  256. 

Tessera  hospitalis,  19. 

Tete  noire,  176. 

Three  angels,  13. 

Three  crowns,  220. 

Three  jolly  sailors,  85. 

Three  Kings,  185,  192  /.,  210. 

Three  Madonnas,  46. 

Three  Moors,  193  /. 

Three  nuns  and  a  hare,  267. 

Three  squirrels,  262  (illus.). 

Tiger,  103,  in. 

Tres  tabernae,  29. 

Trinite,  71. 

Trois  ponts  d'or,  177. 

Unicorne,  83,  93. 
Union  Hotel,  199. 

Vertumnus  and  Pomona,  150. 

Washington,  200. 
We  are  three,  159. 
Wellington,  206. 
We  three  asses,  159. 
White  hart,  201,  246,  251. 
White  horse,  45,  82,  174,  257. 


303 


Jnbex 


Wild  man,  203. 

Wo    der    Fuchs    den    Enten 

predigt,  95. 
Wooden  Indian,  151. 
Wool  pack,  247. 
Wreath,   17  /.,   30,   32,    134, 

136. 

Zebra,  92. 

Zu  den  Slaraffen,  94. 
Zum  Anker,  85. 
Zum  Engel,  226. 


Zum  Geiste,  90,  229. 

Zum  guldin  Schooffe,  86. 

Zum  Kameeltier,  92. 

Zum  Kindli,  71  (illus.),  287. 

Zum  Ochsen,  133. 

Zum  Ritter,  63. 

Zum  Rossle,  83  (illus.). 

Zum  Rohraff,  91. 

Zum  Rosenkrantz,  194. 

Zum  wilden  Mann,  38  (illus.}. 

Zur  Linde,  122. 

Zur  Schlange,  136. 


LOAN  DEPT 


VC  27486 


